garden
to keep the strangers
out.
Wore a shawl around her
shoulders
to keep her warm
inside.
Always wore a smile
yet deep inside she
cried.
She shuffled little
fairy steps-
was careful not to
stride.
She cuddled with herself
at night
and kept her hurt
alive.
pot away - the late summer
sun lighting up your face a half smile
teasing across your lips but
this is not a miracle.
There’s something in the
way you hold your glass
offering it in slow light steps
toying, playing, yet
this is not a miracle.
You subconsciously wipe the
wrinkles from your summer
skirt and cross your suntanned
legs, lift your face to the fading
day and I know
this is not a miracle.
Night slowly chases away the
day and we climb in bed together
and I search inside your eyes
once more as we dance our dance
and I know this is a
miracle.
Trees
forgiving of all
fate’s
seasons
How tall
the
Trees.
How quiet the
Stream
meandering,
cutting
shaping,
the landscape,
how quiet that
Stream.
How empty the
Sky
today,
unthreatening
yet, always
tomorrow’s canvas
those blue
empty
Skies.
And Time’s
shadow- heavy
laden
on the wall
waiting-
waiting
Time’s aching
shadow.
And how incredible
the cry of the
newborn
baby
how wondrous
innocent-
beautiful
that cry.
And Tomorrow-
Another day
flowing into
us,
across us,
beyond us,
upon us-
just
Another
day.
Summer rain
breaking the heat
lightly caressing your
skin
the soft lush grass
pushing between
toes
as the
image of you
lifts
me -
lifts me.
Honey hair
a summer
smile a
brassiere strap
falling onto a
shoulder with a
promise
the shimmering of your
pleated skirt
inviting
inviting.
something in the way
you move…..
capturing me -
capturing
me.
I never actually saw my mother with
a cock in her mouth, but I could have done –
Arms in
after hour - clothes boiling on the
gas hob – the smell enough to tarnish poverty
itself.
I never actually saw her like
that - but remember her fingers burning
on that cast smoothing iron the spit zipping off.
Ladling plate after plate of porridge
to hungry mouths – sat around an open
fire – like birds in a nest - vests stretched over
scabby knees broken fruit boxes burning
too swiftly and gone – ashes.
I never ever saw her like that - yet
life dealt her and her kind an evil hand -
drunken men in every house whilst Bairn’s went
hungry - wives painted white steps in their
back-to-backs while the secrets stayed behind
closed doors and minds were ruined - twisted for-
ever.
I never saw my mam with a cock in
her mouth – not with my eyes anyway.
Just the rats scurrying in rain filled
gutters feeding on the rancid vomit
of man.
Pull the string – flick the switch
True Soldiers never did this
No Virgins - just your head over
There
a look of startled surprise
Killing women – little kids
True Soldiers never did this.
Warriors – crusaders – martyrs
Pick your tag - put you in
A body bag
Then clear up your murderous mess
True soldiers never did this.
Pick a cause – any cause
Like cards out a pack
Listen to the clever one’s rant
Poison your mind while you
Suck them off
Then walk slowly to your wasted death
True Soldiers never did this.
And the tomorrow of another
Fool - certain of everlasting life
Is waiting in your steps
To once again slaughter as many
As he can
True Soldiers never did this.
screaming
groaning
no precipice
just some small death on
the other side of
town.
A sad silent
loss
anonymous -
quietly slipping
away a lost
footing on
a cobbled street.
Death - a sad sack
the
last heavy breath
now the
hopelessness
of
a cold touch - on his
headstone
Names engraved
on cold
marble an
immortal script.
An empty vase
sits whilst
somewhere
nails screech on
a
blackboard
A small death
the other
side of
town.
