Some poems

Abandoned petrol station at Harwich International

Where cars leaked oil and sleepy drivers
spilled petrol in their desire to fill her up
to the brim for the long journey ahead
while their wives bought sweets for the
kids and a magazine to amuse themselves

there now grow buddleia’s in abundance
luring butterflies to fill up for their journey

I marvel at this victory of nature over the
works of man and stop to shoot photos
that will be deleted before I get home

Roadside waterfowl

Their beaks like daggers jab the grass
that like a green carpet
covers a strip of land caught between
the twisted grey ribbon
where they live and thrive and the dark
grey border guarded by
fast roaring monsters, impossible to cross
don’t even think about it

But the best pickings are found close to the
monsters, so close they
ruffle your feathers and some of your tribe
end up like flattened pieces
of carton, a single feather waving a last
farewell, already forgotten

The girl who read Li Bai and Du Fu in a new translation

she began to wear sandals after reading the poems of Li Bai and Du Fu
in a new English translation - such elegant naked feet she had

the wisdom she drank from those lines compelled her to free her face
of the stuff from pots and tubes - such a lovely naked face she had

she shed her designers clothes changing them for a white
cloth of home-spun linen, didn’t she look adorable in that

it was not until her hair changed colour, from fiery red to white
that I began to wonder, though she was lovelier than ever

she hardly ate, drank words instead of
wine, and closed her body for my desires

she began to fade, her features growing dim, her smile, floating
for a while in the summer breeze, was the last I saw of her

that evening I wrote the translator of the poems a letter, thanking
him for his excellent work, and asked him could he sent me a new girl?

he never answered, I
suppose he has faded too

Don’t hold your breath

oystercatchers rise up in a flock of feathers, unmoved
the great gull stands guard over an empty bottle on
the shifting border between two worlds, write your

message in the sand with blood, don’t forget to dot
your i’s, throw the bottle in the sea as far as you can

know that words, painfully chosen, will not fail to feed
famine into obesity, defeat disease, end the war that ends
all wars, and, on a personal level, win the heart of a stranger

if they are not washed out by a sea of ignorance
or thrown back by waves of stubborn stupidity

like a marble statue the gull stares with unblinking eye
towards the oystercatchers, suspended in mid-air, don’t
hold your breath if you wait for things to get better

If I could lift

If I could lift the drops of sweat from
your brow and string them on a thread
spun from a hair found on the pillow of
Marilyn Monroe the morning after she

made love to Joe DiMaggio I could offer
you a string of pearls to guarantee your
everlasting love for me - here a problem
arises, should I lift the glistening pearls

first and secure them in a maple box out
of a violin that Stradivarius built or
should I concentrate on the thread, a
sinking feeling takes possession with

my growing fear that I will not succeed,
no way I can sculpt the necessary
needle from the top of Mount Everest
with the feather from an Angel’s wing

Le Cygne

quivering tones, born from a cello, penetrate
the shield, vibrates in the blood, the mind can

reason, the heart has no such defence, yesterday
was yellow, tomorrow will be blue, today brings

a variety of green, too much green, wind carries
a memory, drops it at your feet, neatly wrapped

in gold coloured paper, like a birthday present, is
that why you stopped having them? you lost count

anyway, the cello mourns her broken string, cries
out her limping melody, all you have to do is find

the right words while on the pond a pair of ducks
all short of floating majestically like swans

Published in What the Peacock Replied
(Dempsey & Windle)

God was among us

For G.B.

God was among us, at the head
of the table, handing out blessings
or whiplashes. We grew or shrank
according to the attention we received

God was among us, drinking sweet
white wine straight from the wedding
at Kanaan, though some scholars
hold the wine was red like his spilled blood

God was among us, smoke curling
from his lips as if he came too close
to his brother who feeds himself
with evil and incinerates all that is good

God was among us, translating his
thoughts into words, that we lapped
up like thirsty dogs, wagging our tails
to please him and keep him talking

God was among us many a
Saturday night and we thought
it would last forever but
even God was not immortal

Published in What the Moon was told
(Dempsey & Windle)

A dead crab, white belly up,
floating in the shallow pool, trapped among
low sandbanks, left behind under the
scorching sun when the waves retreated
Wind whispers ripples on the surface
moving the spindly legs as if they live

A dead girl, white belly up,
one hand floating in the pool
Wind whispers through her hair
moves the fingers in the water as
if they try to grab life

A child picks up the crab,
to bury it he digs a hole in the sand
with his fingers
I took his spade to dig
a grave for the girl

We eye each other suspiciously
I suspect him of killing the crab

Published in Origami Poems and Towering Stories
(various contributors)

A soldiers legacy

the soldier with the large feet
has some advantage
over his undersized fellow sufferers
who sink deeper in the
blood drenched mud
a safe hiding place for the dying

though his large head
is an easier target
is there a lesson in that?

but this was long ago

not long now and their
unborn sons and daughters
caught up by time will be dead too

Published in Selected Poems
(Pendle War Poetry Competition)