Category Archives: poetry

Downstream – Anzac Day, 1995

You are stuck there in my pastlike a fly in amber:
visible,
precious,
protected.
Dead.

The world changed when you left it seven years ago;
and with every day that passes
you are one day farther away from
the reaching fingertips of my remembering mind.

Like a train departing the station
or a river tumbling inevitably down hill,
I am leaving you behind
held fast by a point in time.

All I have to do is lead my life:
I work,
I eat,
I sleep;
and with every task,
with every mouthful,
with every dream
you are farther away from me.

And still I change.

I am no longer the person
who sat beside you as you died,
as you slipped gently into my past,
while I held your hand in mine
and wept
for a time.

9th March 2003

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Spawned by Larkin

They fuck you up, your darling kids.
They may not mean to, but it’s true
that by the time they’re on the skids
you find there’s sod all you can do.

And so it goes from bad to worse
they have the faults their parents had.
Nothing’s learned and that’s the curse
of little shades of mum and dad.

Man hands on misery to man,
and every effort comes to grief.
You do the very best you can
and then they kick you in the teeth.


I’m a tadlet distracted right now, so I decided to take the easy option of digging stuff of my hard-drive. Since I’ve inflicted rather a lot of pictures on you recently I thought I’d inflict some doggerel instead. Don’t worry. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

John Grey and Dorothy Parker

What I say is what I mean.
what you see is what you get,
what I think shows on my face,
and yet you’re still confused, my pet?

Men are from Mars, Women are from VenusDorothy Parker

Cinquain: a verse about verse

Verse forms.
My thoughts evolve
with structure and content.
As each combines with the other
verse forms.

15th October 2003

Last word

I had an epiphany
the other day
about your motives.

Like most of my epiphanies
about you
i
t took poetic form.

It still needs work to find
perfect words
to match my feelings.

And do you know something?
This time
I really can’t be arsed.

The egg

The egg is smooth, round, perfect,
speckled brown and green,
heavy with the bird inside –
An astonishing thing to find
by the bathroom door.

On my bed,
the serial-killer purrs.