Wednesday, 27 February 2013

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 ?

Thursday, 21 February 2013

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.

Friday, 28 December 2012

Indecision

Do I really need to move my car
or shall I take a chance and risk it?
Portslade might be a bit too far
and I might end up with a ticket.
I'd have to make apologies to the group
and scuttle down a busy crowded pavement
but better that than end up in the soup
and owe a silly thirty smackers payment?




Crows

They know the slow solemnity of earth
ungainly labouring to pace across
the ground and feed. They strain to flap escape
from passing hominids, a cat or fox
and slog through Spring and Summer building nests
and rearing young. Sex is a moment's touch.
So now in early Autumn's failing sun
when these dour corvids soar and wheel
high in the wind, playing with gravity,
surely they cannot help but  feel elated.

Saturday, 24 November 2012

No need to worry. You can do it.
If everyone else can, so can you.
It won't be easy getting through it
but it's certainly something you have to do.

You always knew it would come to this
but also thought it too far away
to bother about. Now here it is.
You're going to die today.

Monday, 19 November 2012

Who is Maurice?

Mid-summer solstice, Highdown Hill,
with sunshine fading
the worn blue hem of the crinoline sky
and tired trees shading
the spreading stain on the grass still dry

enough for sitting on until
the solstice dancing
begins. Soon tribal uniforms appear
like lamps enhancing
the darkening scene and bright colours spear

the lowering gloom. The rising chill
is warmed by glowing
fantastic fluttering tatter coats
and kerchiefs showing
the dancers lit by the moon which floats

gibbous above the path uphill.
The tribes are coming,
the savage hordes of famed morris men
and women humming
accordion tunes to be ready when
the squeeze box wails to show their skill :

heeling and toe-ing,
to-ing and fro-ing,
forward and backing,
struck sticks clacking,
hopping and skipping,
bobbing and dipping,
expertly pacing their dancing drill.

At last the music and dancing petered out ;
stillness drowned the final goodbye shout ;
the vibrant gaucho colours leaked away ;
an end must come to even the longest day.

Exactly what we celebrated isn't clear
but any excuse for joy is welcome
at the sad point of the year.

Friday, 16 November 2012