Saturday, 12 January 2013
It can be dangerous when the car in front
randomly stops – or comical when a teenager
- walking up the stairs – stops dead
in tracks because a bleeping text came in
and you say ‘Sorry’ as you crash her rucksack.
It’s weird, because a voice inside desires
that we ‘Keep trucking! Keep on keeping on!’
resists an awkward, random stop.
This energy’s the kind that Bannister
used in his first four minute mile – the kind
that every lover sometimes needs to find.
Random stopping never seems a good idea
- ever – definitely not on an escalator
or motorway and Philip Larkin
bluntly knew how many things we talk
about just never happen. He also said that
this one will.
Wednesday, 9 January 2013
is defined in my little on-line
dictionary as a heavenly
being, guide or guardian; more
than google, a glossy magazine,
radio or TV blinking
and ‘omen’ as a prophetic sign
or signal from the Mystery,
Beloved, God or Allah.
Of course, the ancient days are gone
when we believed in angel-notes from
Mother Nature - such as shapes
in leaves or whether birds appear
to fly, uplift and honk along together.
Today I almost saw a kingfisher
catching silver from water in a
river flowing back to where I
came from. Time passes, turns;
of course those days are gone.
Sunday, 6 January 2013
knowing that, sometime soon, you’ll both need to exit a closed door
and, outside, are hoodlums, thugs, dogs and loud bangs;
the best idea is to sit still (mum) and hope.
Andrew is humming a song from ‘Joseph’, looking around
at the TV unplugged and the Macbook (out of battery by now).
After a while, the crashes return and men bark even louder.
Andrew jumps - and shouts – you quieten him,
rising your terror from belly to throat, quivering fingers;
but he keeps rocking and singing, looking around, crooning gently
‘I closed my eyes – drew back the curtain.’ Melodic, softly,
until one big crash on the door becomes immediate ‘I closed my eyes…’
Andrew smiles, goes to the door-handle, turns it slowly.