Paul Hansford Poems

January's frost and snow
makes your central heating blow.
February? That's no better;
almost as cold, and a good deal wetter.
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Here are some subjects of which I have written
in blank verse, or free, or in rhyme.
I've tabulated twenty-six or so,
but might think of more, given time.
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Living your life the way you want to go
is not that easy. Things don't turn out right,
never go just the way you wish they might.
Plan as you will, you never really know.
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I could say “Ni hao”
for “Good morning, ”
and it was only polite to say “Xie xie”
for “Thank you.”
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She was industrious
for one of her elevated station,
not above scavenging
for her own building materials.
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(The décima is a Spanish form of 10 lines - rhymed ABBAACCDDC - in principle of 8 syllables, though the rather relaxed method of counting syllables in Spanish verse means that lines can actually be anything from 6 to 10 syllables. I've just kept to the standard English Iambic pentameter.)

My poems are my children, more or less.
I care about them, want them to go far,
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The first cold letters, alone on the page.
A quick pencil found them,
and the lively and beautiful syllables blossomed.
The pale book felt the pencil
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All round my hat I wear a lot of badges,
all round my hat, for many and many a day.

A disc of abalone shell from New Zealand;
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