Sunday, August 26, 2018

Fail

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My voice into the nowhere Tailed off; It almost reversed. I looked there; my nerve failed, so I left. That darkness Ha...
Thursday, August 23, 2018

The Broken Bells of St Mary's

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Saint Mary's church, Lubeck, Palm Sunday 1942. The bells of the Marienkirche, still lying where they fell ...
Tuesday, August 21, 2018

The River Took Me

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Once, in a sodden, flaggered field beside the river, the current took me; not a canoe but a trout, a water’s flint smoothed by...
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Thursday, August 16, 2018

Goddess of Winter, Cailleach

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I am weave, flows bare bones of the land, roots blood my stealth; streams mountain hair, hillsides’ ruminations, meadow fant...
Sunday, August 12, 2018

Her Leaving

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Film strip, a train’s windows. Outside mine, parents are straining for a last glimpse. Embarrassed, she stares ahead. The tr...
Monday, August 6, 2018

I can’t fit you into my scheme of things,

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nor you me, now that we’ve finally become ourselves. I turn on you sharper than a scalpel, choose words shaped to torture. Out from b...
Thursday, August 2, 2018

Coping, Not Coping

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You screamed; no one heard. You wondered if you had screamed at all. I asked you where the lines on your face came from; another line ap...
Saturday, July 28, 2018

Poem beside your hospital bed

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Your face that I loved has changed so completely that I already know Our time has gone. And, as dying like a sandstorm rearranges yo...
Saturday, July 21, 2018

Wheel

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In this wheel I am spokes, smile and scowl. Tonight, careering around the town, I see all the pub doors closing and take i...
Monday, July 16, 2018

Visiting the Corsetmaker

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 It was ireland in the sixties. Corset conversation veered very close to immodesty. Michael O'Hehir was the voice of Sunday afternoon...
Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Aging

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Since my molecules are disbanding, I am becoming invisible, each day a little more unseen. As self-belief flickers, I see less...
Thursday, July 5, 2018

Discovery

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I am a fish, a sleek white sliver swimming above the ground. Eyes all around are agog, not mine; they are open as mirrors ar...
Wednesday, July 4, 2018

‘Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion

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‘What are we?’ I ruminate; flat stone skipping over water. ‘What are we?’ opposite wall in blind alley. ‘What are we?’ ar...
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Nightee Night Night

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A boy, stripy pyjamas astray in the woods, is walking, bare feet in the leaf litter, beneath woozy woozy woozy drunken trees. ...
Thursday, June 28, 2018

Beaten by life

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I had a friend who was beaten by life.  A keen poet once, by no means a great poet, but most extraordinarly honest and brave; think of a g...