Saints.
Like swans, gliding untroubled so it seems
to us, lazing on the river bank
of a Seurat summer Sunday afternoon,
...
In case you were on holiday, this nice sunny weather,
(and may I say, what a great idea the Sun is?)
...
Five fingers touching
in the warmth of night;
five toes walking you
when your back feels tight;
...
The gate opens easily -
someone's oiled it quite recently.
There's fresh gravel on the path
this winter day.
...
The radio, first chattering companion of the day,
timed its cold shower of the mind with lethal precision
reminding as I stepped into the warmth of water
of those who stepped into the ‘shower’
...
You knew her better than I – you’d
looked after her when her splendid
eccentricity which the English do so well
went beyond the bounds that others set…
...
There’s so much
we never know,
would never have guessed,
never asked,
...
Apologies, folks
for slipping this one in
under the guise of a poem
but isn't it great
...
Wilfrid Chin Sue says that poetry
is about ‘about’, and thank you Wilf
for that, and thanks too from us poets all
to e.e.cummings for reminding us
...
Christmas is a-comin’ – but
this goose is gettin’ thin…
why do I feel I’m in the dock
...