Friday, February 16, 2024

My Life as a Film Script

 My Life as a Film Script



This was not how I wrote things when I was young

In my teens the end was so far in the distance

That a finale was unconcievable

I lived for the moment, the morning, the day

The early 6:05 train

Leaving a bronzed, unblemished, beautiful man in my bed while I crept around, drinking early instant coffee

Smiling to myself at last night's tender and simple sex

Navigating the inner city concrete jungle city

For an early shift

While he slept on


Weekend sunburn did not stop us from swimming in thick airless heat

Seawater as warm as a bath

Sand in our baguettes

Wine on our lips

Our healthy bodies strode up mountains

Limbs rustled by the high country grasses

The smell of meths in our coffee from the Trangia

Sleeping two to a single squeaky plastic covered mattress in a hut

Much to other trampers disgust


We thought it would last

But money

And electricity bills

And worries from the telly

Wars in strange countries, ugly men who yelled and waved their arms

And petrol prices

And empty fridges

And children with chickenpox, hand, foot and mouth, scabbed knees, and stationary lists

And the dismal repetition of rushed, conjugal relations

The lack of kisses

The eyes that slide over you to the beer on the bench

Those things

They got in the way

So then the end of my script was suddenly so near

I had missed the perfect ending

Of love in old age

Us together for life


Instead the writer of my life failed to tie up the loose ends

And explain the mysteries

Left some strands unfinished

Cliffhangers of broken promises

No epilogue to rely on

(Will it be St Peter at the gate, or reincarnation, perhaps)


I flounder near the end

A montage plays before my eyes

The actors recognisable 

But their movements are already played out


I wish for a flashback to take me back to the beginning

To relive

And perhaps to rewrite what is already done


Fade out.


Thursday, August 19, 2021

For Jennie

 

Pink Is Best

It's such a happy colour
Reminiscent of candy floss, afternoons at the A&P Show
All the pink words are joyous
They include such glories as rosy, flushed rosé, blushing and bloom
Which segway nicely to perfection, prime, apex and finest

Your video took my breath away
I cried as you kissed your fingers to the screen
Impossibly bubbly
Full of life
Our faces flushed
Wearing our happy pink scarves and lipsticks
But all I could see was grey and black
The pink cloud of you swallowed up by our unhappiness
Lost in a sea of black

Pink is best!
And pink will come
Like the Spring blossom
Giving hope again
Soon, I hope.

Saturday, March 16, 2019

In the silence after

In the silence after
In the silence after
I hugged my own child
Knowing there are mothers who will
Never hug their child again
In the silence after
I raged in my heart
Knowing hearts have stopped
Never to beat again
In the silence after
I wept for myself
Knowing the innocence of children broken
A city in despair and unbelief
In the silence after
I questioned my God
Knowing he may not answer
Just yet
In the silence after
The flowers still bloomed
Tussocked islands waved at cars
When they passed
In the silence after
Strangers hugged on the street
Hi-viz and hijab
Knowing there are still
Arms to reach out
Hearts to beat on
In the silence after

Wednesday, August 29, 2018

Sweet Apple Tree

In the Spring the bark bursts
Unfurling crumpled white handkerchiefs
Which look longingly to the sun
Awaiting the eager bees
The dewdrop mirror
The satin soft caress of the breeze

In the Summer she shows
Her best side to the sky
With a sigh her duty toils
Producing a perfect sweet
Blush skinned apple

In the Autumn she has given
Up her leaves to rot and curl
To gnawing caterpillar teeth
Drooped low to the dank aging
Disspated grass

In the Winter she waits
Hidden inside a frosty sheath
Pooling her resources
Preparing her smile behind the snow
To Spring foward afresh

Wednesday, May 30, 2018

The Snow Angel

The Snow Angel
The sun splintered the regimental trees 
Shattering silence as she ran 
Further towards a frozen past 
Cold hearted in her knitted leggings 
Scissored angels wings when she fell 
Leaving only ragged frosty breath 
And icicles 
Laying in the snow

Monday, December 11, 2017

The Amazing Race

A "found" poem, where you take a text and cross out the words you don't want.

A "found" poem, as inspired by Beth Overmyer,
THE AMAZING RACE
Your race
absolute time
will receive questions, maps, timetables and vouchers
Each Master
answer digital money
points for speed
collecting evidence
danger decide
danger absolute
abandon emergency
The deadline is each minute
absolute sight
You may travel.
Otherwise you must walk.
Your clock stops at the finish line.
There, you warm
beware life. fails
you will note
you lose
failure is deemed to be due to overuse


Sunday, December 10, 2017

Waiting for Rain

WAITING FOR RAIN

When night comes, the Moon
Swollen heavy with the day's heat
Glows a balloon of gold
In its blue velvet jewellery box
While we toss and sweat
When will the rains come?
Whispered into our damp pillows