A few new short poems...
Wednesday is for Books. And Writing. Today it's poems. My poems. New ones....
I used to write big, long poems. Unwieldy blank verse. They were stories, basically. But stories told in my poetic voice. I’m sure I’ll return to them - they were the backbone of my first book of poems. And, every now and then a new, longer poem sneaks out of the keyboard. But for the most part I’ve turned off that tap. And I try now to write short poems. Pithy, is what I’m hoping for. Thoughtful, but sometimes just silly. Because silly is fun. I’m never quite sure what I’m going for until it’s done. When it’s done - it’s done. Unless of course I feel like reworking it. That’s been happening a bit too - taking longer poems and condensing them. They are still stories though. My stories. That is always the aim.
Someone messaged me recently and said ‘it’s been a while since you shared any poems on your Substack’ (I swear, I am not making this up). So, with that, here are a few new short poems. I hope you like one of them. Or two. Or…
Let me know what you think:
It’s Never Or Now
an old song plays backwards
in the bar, the footage of you
entering is reversed.
Elvis Presley sings for the
lonely but only one person
ever happened to notice that
*
Not A Wonderful World
Louis Armstrong invented jazz, worked
with sweat and grit and soul to make the
sound we love and need – was later asked
how everything was going, and replied,
“White folks are still in the lead”.
*
There’s Only One Thing Better…
the mandarins were in the
fridge (where I wanted them)
I took them and put them
in a bowl (to gather the skins)
there is a sugar rush that comes
from eating mandarins (but my dad
doesn’t believe that fruit has
sugar, or else his doctor-friend
would have mentioned it one
night, over tennis…surely…)
Now. Where was I? Oh yes…
Mandarins…(mmmmmmmm)
*
Spectator Sport
i like to watch
half-naked teenagers
running for their lives
most of them killed by
chainsaws, brutalised
by knives. hey! i never
said i like to do it.
i like to watch
*
Don’t say slave, you are free
i clearly said ‘no’ when the guy
asked me if i wanted
my receipt. but he still
made a face as i walked off
while the machine was
flashing its ‘acceptance’.
either we are both at fault,
or it’s neither of us – but certainly
this is not anyone else’s problem.
*
Even Secrets
Even secrets have
secrets, because how
many people are let in –
that’s the actual thing
you can never
truly tell
*
I AM
standing in awe of the Colin McCahon,
listening in awe to Peter Gabriel.
I cannot believe the information.
(My heart going boom-boom-boom).
I stand for an age, trying to drink it all in,
in that moment there was no one that
could arrive with any suggestion to take
me home. I AM already there.
*
New World
Friday afternoon, Autumn peeking,
the weekend beckons; commuters
have a little jazz to their stride.
When the whistle blows,
a little part of us brays to
the forever-imaginary full moon;
the larger part of us carries home
weekend possibilities in store-bought
and branded reusable bags.
*
Never Ready
What doesn’t kill me, makes me weaker;
gets me ready – life is made up of bits,
that’s why it comes in pieces and yet
we are never ready for that final
journey; taking any
chance to forget
it’s the only
one
*
Prevention Is Overrated
my imposter syndrome
knows it’s not good enough –
that’s how i cured it
