Category Archives: Poetry

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Truth

Lying comfortably in the armchair,
telling you on the telephone
of all the good times,
of all my brief moments of glory
(exaggerated for affect).

Lying comfortably in the armchair
not mentioning the bad times;
the faults, the inadequacies,
the sweat, the shame,
the lying…
Telling you on the telephone
the truth, but not the whole truth,
the outline, but not the detail.

Lying comfortably in the armchair,
scared that you wouldn’t be impressed
with the reality,
convinced that you would find
my dark link with humanity unacceptable,
I lie,      in the armchair.
armchair

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Disgusting

Disgusting how sunken the cheeks of the ghostly ghouls are.
Even when they take a huge breath
their cheeks hardly move.
It makes them look sullen and disinterested.

I’ve seen them sucking it up on the rugby field
But they don’t look puffed
and their faces don’t go pink.

They put us to shame one day
with their narrow arms and their wheezing
when they beat us 42-3.

I could see they were going easy on us,
sorry for the real people – fatty and prone to tire.

OK, it was only rugby. But just wait ‘til the ghouls
get into politics and fashion design.

Then we’ll be sorry.

TheRosesMatch

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Blossoms

Of them all

this is the best
memory –
walking with my arm
around her
chirping & laughing
& animated
like the sound of
a whole orchard
at twilight

or something like that

explaining about
how work was
and happy as a
single tree
with blossoms

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