Saturday, 27 March 2010

A Word

I find a word

on a galloping journey

and wonder, wonder

what to do with my new found word?

I could breathe it out and cut You.

I could use it to cut into Me.

I could throw it – plop – into an ocean.

I could bury it deeply – dug with a weapon

or I could hold it gently;

notice a shape, a tingle, a texture;

a thumping background rhythm

and I could make an offering.


I could let it be.

Thursday, 25 March 2010

A Real Poem

Time to speak. We’re sitting in a circle

uttering poems in a very British

order. A lady

reads the Lord’s Prayer – a new translation

from Aramaic - and – it’s not even a poem!

Rhymes and meter missing,

as far as I can hear.

Upsetting. Right -

but the room seems to quieten -

listen - and vision

softens, blurs - as if -

kind of – hard edges turn gorgeous, creamy

and a rosy heart settles,

well, into silence.

Wednesday, 24 March 2010


Sign in Slough station;

‘A Better Cup of Coffee”

with a brown background.

Tuesday, 23 March 2010


‘10 minutes in front of us

we got a problem there;

I’m not aware of it all,

we’ll have to sort it out’

‘Ladies and Gentlemen,

train guard speaking!

East Coast apologises for the delay

- we have a technical fault’

and - testing, testing - over the tannoy

Milton, blind as a mole, squeaks

‘They also serve who only stand and wait’

and Davies, hobbling on one leg, barks

‘A poor life this if, full of care,

we have no time to stand and stare’

Monday, 22 March 2010


Spring in Russell Square

where TS Eliot walked;

an old leaf floats down.

Sunday, 21 March 2010

Chat up

He sits at a table opposing her,

angled, on a late night train;

chatting about his music scene

and a dream of becoming a star.

She sits opposing, strokes her hair,

leaning, on the long diagonal,

for a new tune on his headphones

and a dream of becoming a star.

Higher, higher stars alight,

spun and pulled by unseen force;

circling nodes,

flinging their mass,

radiating heat,

fusing; before they explode.