3.15 am:

ridiculous to contemplate
a bird twi-tweeting outside
or that half-lit hotel ceiling.
I need to sleep, I’m not lying
when I say I should be flat out.
Instead I’m writing a poem, unbidden,
trying to get into heart, any heart, my heart.


The sun rises in spite of everything
and fierce birdsong’s there, twittering bright.
I wait for harder sunlight,
knowing inevitable daybreak, another day flying,
reckoning a day is up and, lucky dip, it’ll be all right.

Andrew's Intensity

After all
you do need
to visit a Musical,
sing and clap and bounce,
leading a crowd in their approbation
of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang;
every fibre tuned into
the harmony
of it all.

Inaudible

Breath gives
movement
in the chest
a lifelong zest
in every instant
a new breath test
first gift at birth
last gift of all
a breathing space
between the hush
a breathing spell
ephemeral
ushering out
ushering in
breathtaking
breathable now.

Double

One day, when not myself, I might just split;
not so I could turn into someone else
but to evolve into a new myself.


No joke, no time for tiny giggling fits:
oh no, one day I might well have the balls
to make a stand and stand beside myself.