Friday deal

London Road

dark Friday night

and two

young men

one on his bike

are loitering

on the pavement

the other

next to him

negotiating

some transaction.

My heart pumping

I approach

wary of the implication.

When

I reach them

I see

that he

on the left

is pouring

into the hand

of he

on the bike

skittles

- go on have a few more.

Taste the rainbow

Home For Lunch

In the front room

where the sun pours in 

like coffee in the morning

Grandma and Granddad

sit,

mellow birds,

in the high back chairs

that we don’t use

much.

And then

when John and I

come home for lunch

there they are

waving.

We have belly pork strips

with soft

boiled potatoes,

cabbage

and thin golden gravy.

Granddad

takes out his teeth

and tosses powdered pepper

over his dinner

until we sneeze –

he can’t taste it

otherwise

he tells us.

He uses his pudding spoon

to finish up

the gravy

on his plate.

We watch him looking deep

into the spoon’s greasy bowl.

After a moment

he surfaces.

He tells us

that during the War,

the Great War,

they had to

urinate

on their gas masks

to make them work.

John and I

look at each other

with fearful smiles on our lips.

Grandma scrunches up her face

and pulls

her head down into her shoulders

and says

Ooh!

She is not really listening.

Mum says

its time for Listen with Mother

and

Daphne Oxenford

is coming to get us.

We run back to school

even though its

Latin.

from my first collection

Egg Yolk and Blue Biro

Sugar Rush

I had noted the seductive sultriness of your green eyes

your oaken hair

your smoky breath

your thighs, your belly, their junction

I had bundled feelings into a bag called Love

that should rightly have been called Desire or Lust

or some other more animalistic function

And so to fashion some sort of introduction

where none could be found naturally

I walked the dark passage to your door

knocked to say hello and see

if you could lend me sugar

a cupful

a spoonful

perhaps a small granulated cliché

You

invited me in

with the sultry seductiveness of your green eyes

your oaken hair

those thighs, that belly and the triangulated junction of the two

while you, seeking

the fundamentally unnecessary

sat me in the kitchen

plied me with tea

although you had no need so to do

but proved yourself as amiable

as you were desirable

I was buoyed by the scent of your sex

the musk of you as you curled

around me in your kitchen

the whisper of whirled air

caught in the vortex of your movements

swift

soft, yet

deliberate

You smiled sunshine onto the tiles

wiped up my nervousness

with a damp cloth

while my heart danced

and then I loved only you

forever

and I painted images

with the eye of my mind

of us

old

with the children visiting

and grand children

named after us

while you talked of nosey neighbours

and bus routes

and the lack of good shops

And so when I left

with the sugar

I was swinging

through the clouds

on my way home

as high as a simile

Yet only when I

sat in my kitchen 

poured the sugar

into my lap

as if it were

your fingers

undoing me

only then

did I realise

you were just

being neighbourly

because after all you were just

my neighbour

and the empty cup

crashed

to the floor

as I sobbed 

syrupy tears

I wish

I wish

that I were young again;

that Time,

who has stamped

crass etchings on my face,

were once again a friend,

as on those summer afternoons

where sunshine pooled

across your belly

and berries thickened

on the raspberry canes.

I wish

that when we followed

those bluebell paths

they had never ended

and that we were still

upon them now

negotiating touch

and kiss

and loss.

But there was

no recognition

in those times

that these times

would be

but the worn lining

of my empty purse

where coin edges have

burned the fabric;

where mites of dust

have gathered

in muffling silence.

Sleep

crumbs

the corners

of my eyes.

Thaw

There is an icing
on the window

after this last night

cold has bitten pits into the railings

and frozen 

animal tears 

in the sockets of eyes.

I would paint the sun rise

from here

contemplating distances
in hours

measuring dividing miles 

in sighs.

But you could
colour a new colour,

for I am tired

of these greys and blacks

that I have found of late.

You could bring
a new palette

and refresh my water jar
that I might clean my brushes.

With swift determined strokes
upon the vellum sheet
I would flake the cyan sky
above your head
and the dust dry land
beneath your feet
for

I perceive

the brightness
of a Southern sun

in your hair.

Sound me a new sound

For I am weary of my groans

and moans.

Whisper me secrets

that will tease 
this dwindled flame

into life again

for it has grown lethargic

in this customary dark.

I would crack the hoarfrost

that encrusts my beard.

Observations and Tips in relation to Nutrition during the later years.

Observation 1:

As age increases flexibility of joints decreases.

If joint pain is experienced, a daily supplement of fish oil is recommended.

This may be readily purchased in the form of capsules to avoid unpleasant, fishy flavours (although there is inevitably some aftertaste.)

Fish oil capsules should be taken once or twice a day with food and may also be found beneficial for the memory.

Observation 2:

The importance of a good breakfast cannot be stressed enough. It is the first meal of the day and should not be overlooked.

If working a shift pattern that requires you to start at an unearthly hour in the morning, it is recommended that a sugar-free, slow-release breakfast, such as muesli, is carried to work in a suitable container. This may then be consumed at the appropriate break during the shift. Both complex carbohydrates, such as oats and other grains, and proteins and ‘brown’ fats, such as those contained in nuts, are ideal foods for this purpose. Dried fruit in addition will allow a more instant energy release.

Tip 1:

Place sugar-free, slow-release muesli in a tub such as an empty ice-cream container, to take as mid-shift sustenance.

Tip 2:

Remember to take a fish oil capsule with you when you set off to work.

Place it in a safe place and somewhere where you will come across it easily when preparing to eat your breakfast. Remember fish oil capsules must be taken with food. (See Observation 1 above.)

For example...

Tip 3:

Place fish oil capsule in ice cream container also, so that it is readily available when the muesli is to be consumed.

Tip 4:

On cold mornings, at mid-shift break when ready to consume breakfast, place ice cream tub containing sugar-free, slow-release muesli and milk of your choice (cow, soya or nut) in the microwave (available in the staff kitchen) on low power for one minute to slightly warm contents.

Observation 3:

The flavour of sugar-free, slow-release muesli with milk of your choice (cow, soya or nut) is not improved by the addition of fish oil.

Tip 5:

Remember to REMOVE fish oil capsule from ice-cream container BEFORE placing in microwave.

Portrait of a Widowed Poet

For this photo

you slide left hand 

around left cheek

incline head

so that hand

appears to be preventing head

from floating off -

restrained, contained:

hand sculpts face

with things once felt

distant memories

childhood toothache.

Contrived thus, at dead centre of frame,

your wedding band sings below its knuckle

to show that you are buckled up tight

against others’ eyes.

But he who slid gold

onto your burning finger has dropped

and is buried now

under some slab of Wales

which may explain the delicate shade of grey

your eyes reflect.

What wild Welsh walks

were taken by you two

after sleepy morning sex?

His gentle genitals fit so snug.

You slipped like rain around each other’s necks;

fed one upon the other’s subtle breath;

raked nails on backs;

tattooed your bloody yearnings

into each other’s skins;

kept each other’s words

as earrings.

But against this solid, black ground -

your parked left elbow

pinning down

some imaginary table

out of frame -

you lean gamely forward,

and are snapped

never to truly breathe again.