Sunday, June 1, 2008

Six poems.

Love Song for the Lone Ranger.

Two small eyes from the blankets
With a much larger name
Watch the flickering night candle
Of a Kelly lamp flame.

Is your Daddy still working?
Do you watch for his lights?
Does your Mommy sound restless
Downstairs in the night?
In a place known as somewhere
You can rest quite assured
There'll be safety in numbers
Chalked across a blackboard.

Watching black and white TV
'neath the first satellite
The Lonely Lone Ranger
Holds Tonto so tight.

The Betjeman Blues.

White shorts in the rock pool,
A seaside east town,
A bed-sit for two,
With furniture brown.
Crazy golf gripping fingers,
Crazy slot machine clown,
These Betjeman blues
Are bringing me down.

A sea salt sun memory,
Tanned legs against blue,
Of sand in the bath tub,
Of me inside you.
Crazy candy floss feeling,
Crazy joy ride fairground,
These Betjeman blues
Are bringing me down.

Cheese and Chalk.

I sit in silence
Whilst you always talk,
Defining the difference
Between cheeses and chalk.

The Gift.

Tick tock from the mantle piece
Measuring time,
A gift from the council
At the end of the line.
Forty years loyal service,
Giving his best,
A gift from the council
Now measures what's left.

Chimes through the household
Punctuate every hour,
A gift from the council,
Mini mantle clock tower.
The day passes slowly
To its soap opera end,
A gift from the council,
A clockwork cold friend.

The First Pearl.

In a time of quick fix and quick fortune,
When all you could take came for less,
Pleasure came from the grace
Of dark strangers in lace,
And the hands of the girls at the press.

As a boy all his heroes rode horseback,
Broad white hats marked the good from the bad,
But now far less defined
Were these things in his mind,
Far less clear was the choice to be had.

Young dark creatures of night kept their face from the light
Taking turns to unzip and pretend,
In the back seats of cars
With one eye on the stars,
They compared what they shared with their friends.

So the word spread through distance and cables
As he slid through their hands and their sheets;
A cuckoo in disguise,
Every whim gratified,
So secure in the hand that it feeds.

Then one cautious crisp grass Sunday morning
On a secret spilled sidewalk up town,
He stepped out with a lover
Quite unlike any other,
And embraced as defences came down.

And from the first nervous reach of his fingers
To the last gasping sounds of sweet breath,
Both surrendered in smiles
To a common life style,
Both imagined that this was 'till death.

She was not the first Ruby in his dance
And of course she was not the first girl;
She was not the best placed for true romance,
But she hoped she might be the first Pearl.


Forget me not, Ms Crystal Blue C,
As you soar through the sky-ways that released you from me.
Cure the sky of its blues,
Bathe your eyes in its hue,
And keep precious the one thing
You've taken from me.

Don't look back at the ground, Ms Blue Jean in C,
As your silver winged graces
Leave white fading line traces,
These road sign directions
Through life's dull complications,
Are not of the places you're destined to be.
But forget me not, Crystal Blue C.