Writing the Harvest
Some second year poems. I've tried not to be funny.
One Hundred Years
I was Juror Eight,
I had two Chalazions,
I took her for dinner and asked her to pay,
I was responsible for a brilliant first act, a passable second and a diabolical third,
I owe all to Deborah,
I felt my glasses cutting my face,
I remember Roger Moore’s eyebrow,
I initiated indecent exposure in the classroom,
I don’t remember Pat’s dog trying to rape me,
I asked if he had a nose-bleed and was myself asked “well what does it look like?”,
I loved Holly and Oscar,
I loved Nana and Grandad,
I refused to bury a time capsule for fear it would be found.
It Could All Go Wrong
What if a note hits the wooden floor,
What if if the voice cracks and draws a sigh?
What if applause is an empty hall,
What if the silence drives us to cry?
Are we stronger than deep grey sea,
Are we sweeter than dulcet winds?
Are we sturdy as a ship of dreams,
Are we safer with just two wings?
I won’t throw you to the desert sands,
I won’t drown you in a cloud.
I won’t neglect your warm warm hands,
I won’t brand you disavowed.
We could let our strangled hands slip aside,
We could watch our sadness coincide.
We could fall asleep but not close our eyes,
We could see if our hearts really do collide.
Never Grow Old
I don’t feel like dancing now,
Age brings harsh light now.
I’ll sit and watch neglectfully.
Condemn the edges of an empty hall.
I am not coerced
Whilst they quench their thirst
With items of commerce.
I’m sinking in solidity.
My lifeguard has already drowned.
The Anarchist’s Handbook
Hear the noisy report of my passing,
And tell the scarecrows what you think you saw.
No whisper of Chlorate Potassium,
Merely my mutilationary corpse.
I tried I tried so hard never to die,
And three times begged you softly take me home.
Where, you ask as I choke on the smoke-lit sky.
I cannot speak, but for a wistful sigh.
Tenderly harbored was my concoction,
No pin pulled as I closed the metal door,
Though such cruelty is natural selection,
Jolted and stricken my face kissed my hands.
Here you run while one man primes his heels,
To me amidst my billowing plans.
Remember restaurants, our frugal meals.
You never heard me sing, and never will.
Sit on the aisle, the inspector approaches
you have no ticket just a screen of numbers
ANY UNATTENDED ITEMS WILL BE ANNIHILATED
He tells you to swap when you have to change,
But a girl you’ve not met says the change is delayed
ANY UNATTENDED ITEMS WILL BE EXTERMINATED
You’ll need to replace your original ticket
at the fork in the road, but in only ten minutes
ANY UNATTENDED ITEMS WILL BE EXTIRPATED
Without an original you have but a choice
hit the desk and machine or explain to save face?
ANY UNATTENDED ITEMS WILL BE ERADICATED
You decide to run, to complete step one
enter a code then collide head-on
ANY UNATTENDED ITEMS WILL BE MUTILATED
Back to the bridge, words echo fast
telling you time is what you don’t have
ANY UNATTENDED ITEMS WILL BE REPUDIATED
Then one phrase cuts through the others
you’re stopped in your tracks, all other thoughts smothered.
ANY UNATTENDED ITEMS WILL BE INVALIDATED
We’re sorry for the delay, not our fault you see,
but due to an untimely fatality.
ANY UNATTENDED ITEMS WILL BE OBLITERATED
You’d rather stop but you’d better run
the connection is escaping from platform one.
ANY UNATTENDED ITEMS WILL BE DEVASTATED
Reach the edge of road and rails,
Pistons scraping and turning wheels
ANY UNATTENDED ITEMS WILL BE DESOLATED
Consider the departure’s distant whisper,
and ask yourself why, why did you miss her?