poem

by

A Hot Day in June

Its hard to settle on sultry days like this.
Too hot to sit in that high sun,
yet, afraid to sit in the shade
else we may miss the longed for treat.

Clothing sticks to our damp creamed skin,
and our out of shape straw hats,
dragged hastily from the back of the cupboard,
pattern our faces.

We freeze our drinks and lick them lustily,
or glug at cold beers holding the cans
to our cheeks
to better feel the chill.

The jealous bees slake their thirsts,
sipping delicately from the bath
while the birds are watchful
from the shade of the trees.

By late afternoon all is adroop.
The roses nod in appreciation
as the spray of the hose rescues them
from certain desiccation.

Saving water, the brittle lawn
doesn’t share that magic shower
for who knows how long this
spell will last?

 

Advertisements
by

On the Quay at Fishguard

DSC_0880

We sat and stared at the sea
its distant calm expanse
as blue as the sky.
Closer, the kaleidoscope of grey patterns
hid its secret creatures,
as the seaweed danced
to natures rhythm.

Boats slid across the surface,
or, captured by a buoy,
swayed sadly in the wake.
Gulls gossiped and watched
as the crab man came
and unloaded his catch,
startled red within their cages.

Then the ferry loomed,
its bulk altering perspectives
as it steered imperiously to port.

 

by

The Marathon

*For Corinne and James who completed the Bath Two Tunnels half-marathon last Saturday watched by a very proud mum and dad xx

I found a bench from which to watch
Sat licking ice cream til they came
The first lap they looked surprisingly
fresh, even the big ones,
those ones you wouldn’t take for runners
You could hear their breath though

So many it took half an hour for them all to pass
My ice cream gone I could clap and cheer now
awed by their fortitude
the digging in as they return for the second lap
Their faces contorted
grasping at the air with clenched teeth
Hair stuck to sweaty necks
Some resort to walking

The birds have flown
so all I can hear are the gasps
as they run back out to the distant marker
I wander back to the finish line
Its a nice day for a stroll
Sit on the grass in the sun
‘til the first ones find their final push
speed up when they see the sign
grin as they go over
then collapse
Exhausted, I need a drink.

 

 

by

A little bit of Green

The diggers have come and destroyed the daffodils on the green,
creating a vast hole in my childhood.
The rocket ships that looked like swings,
the slide to the bottom of the big blue sea,
the café and the benches where mums sipped their tea,
all gone.

That tiny park of recreation, a slice of nature nestling
between the buildings.
Football on Saturdays, cricket on Sundays,
and marigolds on a dismal day.
The place of get togethers and breaking hearts,
all gone.

Replaced with those tick tack wall to wall houses.
Their mean gardens room enough only for a
trampoline and barbeque.
Maybe the laughter from the past will reverberate
through the lives of the families living there.
Those that have stolen my space.

by

Woman in the Waiting Room

Hands clasped tight in my lap
I watch the child crying in the corner
while the mother tuts and coos
and the old man coughs
that old man cough of
clogged lungs and
failing heart

The incongruous laughter
leaching from the back room
is an insult
as a scruffy teenager sniffs
on the too close chair beside me

I study the ebbing of life
in the clock face
I can smell disease
feel it spreading
seeping in through my skin
I dare not fidget
for fear of contamination

People leave clutching their
life lines
I hope for one too
A pain easer
A mood lifter
A miracle
but when they call my name
despair drips
onto those clasping hands