jim hogg Poems

Now every song calls moments home, even grains of summer
I sit and turn them clumsily to keep the tide at bay
And here through flattened notes I hear the coming of the drummer
In all those words like wingbeats that once carried us away
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Let's round up the sceptics and bring them all near
To whisper corrective words in their ear
And if they persist in denying they're ill
We'll have to force-feed them a gullible pill
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It's Sunday morning here in Glasgow
And I've just woken from a dream
Outside I hear the church bells toll
The leaves are trembling in the breeze
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Watching the waves in broken wings
Thinking of all the things you've done
Blaming yourself for everything
In all the world, you are the one
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The stars still colonise my jealous eyes
And write what never was on fading lines
We never danced the night away and left
Together arm in arm with hearts in step
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Behind the begonias and between the tomes,
the sinistra wilt before simplicity.
Crosland, cigar in hand, poses magisterial
and unbelieving, on some stolid but unseen wall.
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The wunters were hard but oor simmers were hot
and braver kids dooked in the chilly white loch
where temperature gauges fair upwardly shot
when reports swiftly spread that the ravishing Dot
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I clicked your page again today, and found,
between the stony beach and your fair meadow,
a list of broken hearts you’d written for
(we bowed together before your humour
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I see the Copper Beech between
The Plane tree and the Evergreen
The old stone wall beside the road
The crescent where the street lights glowed
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Are you leading off the final bend
Are you at the front of every trend
Are you every girl and every boy
Are you melody or just white noise
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