Tracy WatsonBrown Poems

His name was Claude Stanley Choules.
He was a living testimony
Until today.
...

All night fat flakes fell gently
So we woke to a world clean, fresh and bright.
Thickly wrapped we ventured out
Anticipating rare fun, knowing it would not last long.
...

The face I see is one with drained flesh
Losing form and identity;
Bones breaking through the outer parts.
Hands, knarled and stiff,
...

The right life is marked by simplicity.
Fresh baked bread.
Butter, cheese, pickles.
Blackberries gathered, eaten with cream.
...

Awake my soul
Listen to the spirit song
The heart beat of love.
Awake and take your share
...

One week in four I slip into daydream,
The real is veiled; a world is inside me.
An ebb and flow of physicality
With forced moments of dull lucidity,
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Dear Dad,
You said - you will end up like your mother
Enjoy it while you can-
By which, I presume, you meant fat,
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Gaza is bombed.
Railway strike ballots.
Suicide bomb child,
Widowed at seventeen.
...

I add mayo to prawns.
Stirring, the squelch of fish on sauce is satisfying.
You eat breakfast.
A blob on the bread spreads with difficulty.
...

The sky is dull- but the
white wings of gulls
flash against it.
So, I will look for signs of your presence
...