Tag Archives: poem

CURVATURE

CURVATURE

wholly complicit
she

observes how the light
dapples her desk

take a
counter to her
and
she will not
stop ticking

good sign!

neat how
just a word
from her physics Professor
can break this reverie
bring her
back to reality (so-
called)

him within which
expounding at length
on the cast-iron
laws of
repulsion, attraction;

the sheer number
of white-hot articles published
hourly, daily,
emanating
out of this machine

testament to how
slowly the Universe
has slowed down
(no quick
       big crunch less
than than
lovingly speaking)

still locked
and loaded, explosive,
                   keen on expanding

whilst the warmth
of that afore obliquely
hinted at
      solar radiation

runs up her arms
pours down her neck

leaving her
         ripe for anything

feeling never before so
cute and
astute, philosophically awake

ready to
deal with dark energies,
dark matter
across
    whatever distance

strip
back that veil

trace (her
very first blueprint)

the soul of her curvature,
all curvature
    as it makes its way

BY A MILE

BY A MILE

the
power of
poetry
is something

to be reckoned with
not to be taken lightly

as the sage put it (holding
on for dear life
     the abyss
looking into him
at
   the edge
of all sanity)

what does not
kill me
    making me
stronger

and by that logic
what a truly invincible word-
warrior I must have
become

to carry
so many scars

have borne
so many
       wounds

for each
scar

the slashing cut
of so so
many
rejection slips

a thousand poems
a thousand failures

that miss
     by a millimeter

sail past by a mile

LESS THAN FINE

LESS THAN FINE

wanted to write a
sexy poem
very
sexual

but the ink
prematurely ejaculated
shot out of my pen

wanted to a write a
very scary poem
ultimate scare

but the ink froze
my blood curdled
as it
    hit my brain

wanted to write a
very sentimental poem
terribly sad

but the
page got fluffy
all
   of a sudden
out of nowhere
went all
soft toy on me

didn’t want to
write an
elegy, my
elegy

a poem
on death
but you
twisted my arm
persuaded me I should

promising  me
you would give me
the perfect
last line

all those last lines of my own
though by
no means hopeless
less
   than fine

ACCORDING TO PLAN

ACCORDING TO PLAN

far on the left
could equally
have been

far
on the right

or, indeed,
betwixt and between
crying in
the wilderness

centre of the Earth
out in the void
beyond
every known galaxy

thinking thoughts (for
what else can I do?)

                     dreaming up

five year
ten year

billion year plans

everything so fat
end to beginning
beginning
           to end

not going
according to plan

APOLLO

APOLLO

rocket
to the Moon

rocket
saying Hi, dropping
into my
back yard

bringing my own
private star, billion
degree
       Sun

same rocket
rocket
men
    rode to the Moon

(bouncing, buggying around
scenic drive
      one small
step for man)

same as the one that
took out my house, my
tiny lawn

like the eggs on the stove
I was cooking when
it came
       to pay
a visit, pay
its respects

popping, exploding in
that red-hot thermonuclear pan

I was
well and truly Sun god fried

APOLLO

APOLLO

rocket
to the Moon

rocket
saying Hi, dropping
into my
back yard

bringing my own
private star, billion
degree
       Sun

same rocket
rocket
men
    rode to the Moon

(bouncing, buggying around
scenic drive
      one small
step for man)

same as the one that
took my house, my
tiny lawn

like the eggs on the stove
I was cooking when
it came
       to pay
a visit, pay
its respects

I was
truly fried

AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA

AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA

the cabin I once graced
now lies
at the bottom of the sea

seems it was something
of a cursed vessel

and where I am now
this semi-desert
an inland ocean once
paleontology
has determined

in the long long view
that tingle tremble
beneath your feet
may
   at the end of the day
be a matter truly
tectonic

I almost drowned
on a ship
in sea water
         the day before
it docked in harbour

thought I could swim
just sail majestically
across the water

me being
most water
     of all the water signs

sank
  like a stone, a thing
of lead

thought wrong

somehow feel that this is
not the last
episode in
an ongoing saga

me,
and the bottom of the sea

OTHERWISE

OTHERWISE

this flower
might well have been otherwise?

how on Earth can you not tell?

watching from the wings
I will always be there
as my snake self

coiling, uncoiling, sliding
over under
       slurring those many
hissed syllables

in order to educate Eve
as to
    words, possible worlds,
way
   beyond her current
Scrabble set

and in one of these
an Adam without sin
who remains
eternally alone

looking everywhere for
a trace of that beauty
he has
    yet not an inkling of

feeling, despite himself,
an inexplicable sense of
emptiness, incompleteness,
loneliness, loss

whereas
      in all other permutations

he faces a time that
will come when all gardens
must be levelled

where
  the leaves, the trees, the clouds,
the crystal streams and
mirroring waters,
the beasts and birds or the air
whose names
Adam gave

will all forget, be forgotten,
no one will remember, no
one to remember