Tag: AGING

Stops

Another thirty-ish minutes of life
lost to indecisions
By my lethargy
By her rough mis-reckonings
of tightly wound watches
and bare clock faces

You will never get it back

Did I ever want it thrust upon me?
Did I ask for . . .

Sorry, access to full poetry content is now restricted.

Closing Times

Now - be forever consigned
to coughed-up-banter nights
at your threadbare old boys' club -
propped behind spewed pints
of pump-drawn gut-brown beer

Your bent still good arm lifts
three quids worth of bowel-stripper
Last orders
and so a knocking back of pints . . .

Sorry, access to full poetry content is now restricted.

A Thankless Task

Here fifty-six lichen-dipped
granite bodies sunbathe -
some lean - some almost swoon
in April's upset of unexpected weather

Here clippings
and rolled stripes of grass
mark long-sunk slopes
under headstones

A cartographer
had taken up mowing
and looked back
upon his day's work

as a map . . .

Sorry, access to full poetry content is now restricted.

Field Studies

We swam before fish
in that meandering
gutter of long runoffs
down from Kemble
in our eel-shone skin -
equal by breaststrokes
and coloured cold white
like a pair of split cod

I waited for you to lift
yourself from her wet veil -
a single upper body heft
in to . . .

Sorry, access to full poetry content is now restricted.

Words Burn

VLADIMIR: You should have been a poet.
ESTRAGON: I was. [Gesture towards his rags.]
Isn’t that obvious. [Silence.] 
Waiting for Godot. Samuel Beckett

A whole ninety-eight cents
have recently been credited
to my low-tide bank account
from . . .

Sorry, access to full poetry content is now restricted.

Rubber Soles

Paced - my set flat route
of pliable rubber yards -
of flashed-by-dashes
on my soon-endless run
on that springing path
of a conveyor belt -
then up an incline fixed
by my lightest touch -
but slowed by my death
in that sweated place -

My running times show -
but have . . .

Sorry, access to full poetry content is now restricted.