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.