"We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started
and know the place for the first time." (T S Eliot)
"A dark and chanted verse is what I am." (
Forough Farrokhzad)

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

GRANDFATHERED

It was always there
Above the kitchen cupboards
That decked the walls.
It dwarfed silly china
Ducks or swans
That I cannot remember now.

A bottle of Black and White –
Two little Scotchie dogs
That enchanted me,
And they still do.

It was half full,
That’s how it seemed to me.

Half empty my grandmother said.
It was your grandfather’s tipple,
So it’s probably cold tea.
He’d surely have drained it
And disguised his crime.
Anyway, he’s not here to confess.

I was so small.
I could not reach it.
I’m still trying to climb
High enough to enjoy it.


Saturday, May 13, 2017

POSTSCRIPTS

Up at five,
Barely alive,
Dangerous drive,
If I can park I'll survive
Another day,
Striving for pay.

My skin cancer scars
Often help my mind 
Remember sequences of events -
Like ancient texts
Curated by the blind,
Penned on parchment,
Once pristine,
In past tense.

I am sick of paddling in the shorebreak.
If only I was swimming way out there -
Beyond burbling white crests of wild waves' sets,
Where sea and sky blush in the sunset's glare.