The Wedding Reception

Guests at a wedding we joined the throng
of dancers in the village hall;
the bride and groom were rather long
in the tooth, the guests the same,
but next to her parents against the wall
there flickered a little flame.

Fanned by the breeze from the dancing feet
and fuelled by sips of sweet champagne,
as waltzing changed to a disco beat
so the flame became a fire.
She started to dance without being vain
and the temperature climbed higher.

Youth and her innocence caused a glow
to spread across that middle aged room.
Such joy as we no longer know
made her laugh and sing out loud.
We all turned to watch and even the groom
joined in the admiring crowd.

Men stood entranced but then something stirred
in every woman's breast - the fear
recalled from their own Day - and I heard
the whispering mother chide
"Now that's quite enough. Just you come back here.
How dare you dim the bride !"

New Year's Eve

One more year consigned to the past;
one less until I die;
grown from an inch to an inch and a quarter
in a world a hundred feet high.

Death Sentence

Because I'm dead I have no rights but one
yet he that murdered me lives on
and, though in prison, still enjoys so much
of what life has to offer such
as comradeship and love of family
while my folk never will see me
again. They scan a void where howls of loss
reverberate but cannot cross.
Adaptable as people are, in time
his life will mould anew, his crime
not punished by the hell of galley slaves
now Human Rights cede much he craves
like decent food, gym, music books, TV -
none of which things can comfort me.
Absent, I am forgotten, my one right
ignored while gradually his plight
gains sympathy for his release. Throughout
imprisonment he has no doubt
he will return at last. My kin and I
have no such hope. He made me die
and yet enjoys some life which is not fair.
"Forgive." they say, which means don't care.
I in eternity cannot forgive;
fairness demands he shall not live.
Because I'm dead, I have no rights but one
which is that justice must be done.

Page 3

Some feminists view it with a shudder:
"Does a bull get excited by a young cow's udder?"

The morning that my wife died, after visiting the hospice,
disoriented, disbelieving, desperate to see her,
I drove home, embarrassed that I'd cried, and fled the empty rooms
into the garden. Calmly, silently, a delicate dart
of white passed overhead - a little egret - and my grieving
paused, astonished. Only once before had she and I seen such
a bird in England as a rare migrant in the west country:
never before had I seen an egret in my neighbourhood.
I stared, unsure of the significance of the event
while the bird glided out of sight behind some trees.
Was it just a strange coincidence or something more, something
concerning soul or spirit ? Perhaps she wasn't really
dead but metamorphosed into that bird, taking pity on me,
trying to console me in her death as so often in life.
The day passed slowly in troubled confusion till sleep eased pain.
Later in the year I saw more egrets in the neighbourhood.
So just a strange coincidence then ?

Today is the sixth anniversary of the day she died
and another miserable cold and wet December day.
In the garden this morning another white egret flew past.
Another visitation of something supernatural ?
A soul at peace I hope not searching still for consolation.
Who knows ? But what about the intervening anniversaries ?
What was she so busy with that she couldn't find the time
to visit me on those occasions ? Just like a woman !

When acquaintances ask "How are you?",
you tell them "Fine", "So-so", "OK";
more honest with friends who ask the same
"Fed-up", "Pissed off", "In the dumps today".
But a caring partner knows how you feel
without you having to say.

Old age dilemma

One old lady in my bed
or lots of young ones in my head ?

A novel is a floodlight
showing actors on a stage;
a poem is a spotlight
on one person in the audience.

Parents

You stupid boy, you silly girl,
to throw away the lives that hardly yet were yours
for some romantic notion of true love,
for nothing that could count as cause !

If you had lost your love when old
and only after true companionship lifelong,
then there'd be no-one else to take their place
and suicide would not seem wrong.

But you were young, all life ahead,
too young indeed to know lost love will heal in time
when young enough to find another love
and build a future in your prime.

So many years we nurtured you
through infancy and childhood till you reached this stage
of adolescence and how you repay
our love ! Now we can only rage

against your thoughtless foolishness.
Your names should be remembered so that none forget
the stupid silliness of teenage love.
Oh, Romeo! Oh, Juliet!

Nice work if you can get it

Would you like to be something
official, somebody important ?
Do you crave attention but
lack the talent to entertain ?
Would you revel in countless
meetings discussing airy issues ?
Could you master the minutiae
of proposals, amendments, resolutions ?
Will you enjoy it in a supporters
club jeering at the opposition ?
And most important -can you talk
fluently without actually saying anything ?
Lots of 'yes's ?
Good, we have just the position for you.
(We can hardly call it a job !)
Politician.

That evening at the local lady's house,
after the meal when the dancing began,
you seemed to float above the dusty ground
lifted by rum and the feeling you can

do anything you want. Nothing should douse
modern young women's faith in themselves.
So, swaying to the music you soon found
local lads keen enough to juxtapose pelves.

Although too old, I wished I were your spouse;
widowed, past grief, I need someone for wife
but since out there young men and good abound,
surely you'll have a fulfilling married life.

Advice to our young men

Go fight our enemies, all my sons.

Your victories will glorify you.

And if you die, it is but once

and paradise virgins satisfy you.

Go seek your fame in foreign parts.

Families will immortalise you.

Kiss goodbye to beautiful sweethearts.

We old men will deputise you.

Too mean (but also too loud)

I shuffled into a gap among the crowd
as the band was tuning up after the break.
A guy approached speaking as he came near
but the music from the band was then so loud
it was impossible for me to hear
exactly what he said.  I had to shake
my head in ignorance. He pointed at my wrist.
Of course. "About a quarter to ten." I showed
him my watch. "No." he bellowed in my ear.
"Not that. It seems you haven't got the gist.
Have you got a stamp?"  I thought  How queer !
Why does he want to post a letter here?
But then he explained . "The band's called 'Jake'.
They've come from Norway. We have to make
a charge. I'll stamp your hand when I take
your money." But that was his not my idea.
Paying an entrance fee wasn't funny.
"Norway? No way. If it's not a free gig,
I'll leave." I said.
And did.

Tantalising

That Tantalus had an easy time
with merely grapes beyond his reach
and grabbing them not a possible crime.
But how would he handle a ripening peach

with creamy skin and succulent flesh
like all those pendulous next to me ?
That's real temptation, sweet and fresh,
beckoning invitingly.

Desirable fruit are such a goal,
jostling and dancing to a beat,
showing they know how to rock and roll
with silky skills on nimble feet.

Such striking lovelies hovering near
demand defence more than attack
and make my lack of choice quite clear -
I keep my hands behind my back.

All pressed together makes it hard
to guard against carnality.
I'd have to accept a yellow card
but I can't afford a penalty.

42 ?

Ignoring sex and politics,
religion, education, art,
literature and economics,
music, nature, science, sport;

disdaining class and social tension,
love and duty, peace and war,
radio and television,
the job, the hobbies, house and car;

discounting bills and holidays,
parents, children, husband, wife,
happiness in all its ways -
what is the meaning of life ?

Kyrgyrstan

The summer plains bake in desert heat
while distant mountains tempt with white ice cream.
The solemn peaks pour sparkling water over tumbled rocks
though upward eddies surge against the flow
reluctant to descend to dumpling foothills.
The ice cold blue of the water is diluted sky.
Climbing cows ascend the slopes
picking their way through herds of horses.
Outrider dogs guard galloping horsemen up the valleys.
The needle fir trees point to summit snow
soon stained by Asian night.
The moon keeps watch.