heatstroke

Tags

greece, haiku, holiday, NaPoWriMo, paxos, poem in a white ribbed vest

as if the sun sought
to set the hillside on fire,
a grecian midday.

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freeze

Tags

cinquaine, NaPoWriMo, poem in a white ribbed vest, snow, whiteout

morning,
undecided
snow do-se-do-s with sun,
weather musters for a weekend
whiteout.

Photo by Belinda Latchford

february

Tags

frost, NaPoWriMo, poem, poem in a white ribbed vest

indiscriminate
the frost’s delicate
cold hand,
dusting each fence post,
bush and tree,
a fondant icing
on the land,
a picturesque frigidity.

Many thanks to Caroline Sauverin for photograph.

failsafe

Tags

NaPoWriMo, poem in a white ribbed vest, snapdragons, spring, veseys

 

each and every year
the stalwart snapdragons
steadfast to the last,
push up pluckily
through the exterior walls
of the whitewashed pavilion
and out of the dull grey
blistering tarmac of the path,
old soldiers saluting each other.
bubblegum pink, salmon
and marshmallow, pillar box
red and peach and white,
like a variety of bonbons
from the pic’n’mix of the past.

 

Photo of Rocket Mix Snapdragon from Veseys.

diminishing returns

Tags

NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month, nostalgia, poem

once upon a time
my happy ever afters
hitched their wagons
to someone else’s star.
my possibilities shrank,
dreams gathered dust
on the cluttered sideboard.
my future narrowed,
narrowed, to the sights
of a gun, a circle of light
and colour in the far distance.
and I still have such a long way to go,
but on a rope bridge of uncertain strength
and to a destination less distinct.

death and the musician

Tags

blog, death, grant hart, grief, husker du, nostalgia, poem, rip

hearing a certain song now
resonates inside your heart
as if it really held strings;
and your eyes begin to leak the grief
that is drowning you by degrees.
your record collection
a roll call of the dead.

it carries the same unexpected pathos
as the accidental discovery
of something banal or mundane
– a note to the milkman,
for ‘one extra pint, please’,
 a recipe or an address –
in the handwriting of
a deceased parent, so
 familiar and now so seldom   seen.
they will never put pen to paper again.

‘well it happened years ago’

Tags

blog, jarvis cocker, kodachrome, morrissey, NaPoWriMo, poem, pulp, ray davies

when jarvis cocker yelps,
aroused by acrylic,
remembering,
in kodachrome,
the first time.

when he tries to control
his sexual urges,
adolescence
drawing him surely,
irresistibly back.

when he revels
in illicit afternoons
under eiderdowns,
when his voice is
distorted by desire.

when he doles out
romantic advice
to someone else’s
girlfriend, forlornly
wishing to be noticed.

when he is thwarted,
passion unrequited,
and languishes in
the bittersweetness
of ‘I told you so’s.

when he resigns himself
to best friend status
and watches her
waste her youth
on someone unworthy.

when he talks to you
in a hollywood club
or sends you a postcard.
when he djs at a friend
of a friend’s birthday do.

when you ask if he’ll
give up smoking once
you’re married, and he says
something about filters
you don’t understand.

when you correspond
about sixth formers
in white lab coats and
your dad succumbing
for ever to prog rock.

when you and your sister
dance to songs that
actually mean something
at indie nights by the score
all through the nineties.

when he colours
his hair with glints
the shade of poppy
and the fans almost fall
through the balcony.

when, wearing sunglasses
on his head, he pokes fun
at the upper classes
or castigates those
who should know better.

when there is no one
else quite like him
for leavening disdain
with compassion,
a condiment of empathy.

when songs start in mid-
conversation and he beckons
the camera in closer,
confidentially
urging you: ‘listen’.

when he dissects
class divisions
with a scalpel of satire
but his tongue still
firmly in his cheek.

when, in a few years more
he’s what they like to call
a national treasure,
a sir ray davies or
a morrissey.

when there was never
a more heartfelt chorus
of ‘yeah yeah yeah
yeah yeah yeah’s,
when they somehow
kind of say it all.

More on Jarvis and Pulp on bashfulbadgersblog – lyrics; aside on his art school days, mentions here and here.

swansong

Tags

carly simon, NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month, you're so vain

the softest soft focus
on the bleached out face
of the famous old folk singer,
her features, once so strong,
so definite, half erased
by highlighting,
as if in mid-dissolve
to the next shot.

insubstantial
as a wraith
when she used to be
so vital, so present,
grounded as a tree,
an earthiness to her
that connected to the stars
and sun and sky.

now she is stripped
of personality,
rendered generic,
blonde and ironed out,
almost to the point
of invisibility.

her song remains
her monument,
vibrant, trenchant, true,
her stairway
to immortality.

leave-taking

Tags

blog, NaPoWriMo, nostalgia, poem, st joseph's

one day, a while ago,
my life set sail without me
and I waved it off from the dock,
blithe in sandalled feet and strappy summer dress,
all see-through with the brilliant sun behind me.

I too was translucent,
my edges incandescent,
slim and lithe and hopeful
with youth’s first ardour.
my eyes set on the horizon,
vitality bursting out of me like a song,
the world my oyster to discover.

I didn’t know my path was fixed,
circumscribed by my past,
my personality all flaws
and no fortitude.
my shortcomings, never overcome,
tethered me like a long leash,
never letting me stray too far,
tautening, tightening and pulling me back.
and I would only ever stand alone
on the farthest end of the jetty
and cast a wistful glance out to sea.

ambergris

Tags

blog, brigitte jeffs, NaPoWriMo, poem, saharan dust

a strange preternatural
semidarkness descends
towards midday,
as if prelude to an eclipse.
the autumnal light
is filtered through
a glass of orangeade,
saharan dust generating
a lozenge of warmth
on the blond hardwood floor,
the october sky an apricot
washed over by grey.

 

Thanks to Brigitte Jeffs for photo.