New Year’s Eve

1950s music

Johnny B Goode

 New Year’s Eve

smoothing the cat 

tenderly

 new years eve / day

i have had this cold sore

for two years

 that hiatus 

when time for the child

is endless 

 red nail varnish 

dancing in the light

off her iPad

 wavy browning

the grass is eating the leaves

a solstice feast 

 towels

with coloured pegs

in the rain

 postmodern giant

dies along with yesterday

tomorrow arrives

 a little further

higher than the last tree

over the last bridge

 a footballer dies

a fashion designer dies

people are starving 

 walking walking

fog moon streetlight fig tree

the cold hours

 rain soon

the sky is turning yellow

swim time

 snowing snowily 

fluffy robin such thin legs

aren’t you cold

 that bruise

watching it fade slowly 

with the worry

 only a moment

but what a moment it is

such light is once

 wild sea swimming 

always something to do

on a wet day

walking to the sea

on a windy day in the rain 

always

rough sea

it’s the back-pull

that propels

 apropos

a line break for a stop

writing a poem

 and so it is time

of all the graven images 

the last to fall

silent are the empty tombs

bereft their final prayers

 where are they going

the clouds so quickly and do they

ever come back

 70% water 

and most of that is tears

2022

 snow

taking myself for a walk

as i remember 

  on a featherbed

of words such as these

i turn over

 on a featherbed

of words such as these

i turn over

 all these old songs 

slice through my hardening heart 

until the lemon flows

 listen mary 

the stones are speaking

of you 

 extra rinse

the water hammer

hammers

 heavy rain

the yard becomes a lake 

of thoughts

 figures figurine

on a long beach in wales 

brown with brine

 sad postman
any news about our strike?
he asks

 wipers wipers

a drenched pied wagtail 

by a dustbin

 help dark help

bukowski has slammed the door

i cannot get out

a saxophone is playing

in the darkness playing

 i have found lost

here in this lonely poem

by bukowski

 dusk

reddening the red

of the bricks in the yard

 philosophers

why did the cat get the hump

answers on a post card

 no rush 

for the bus is broken down

chatting about life

 in the snowfields

a memory of a memory

is that memory 

from there 

going to there from there

a a a dragonfly 

solstice

all are astronomers now

long and short

 this road

we have travelled it before

how time flies

 chopping vegetables 

hope you don’t mind blood

in your soup

 two tom cats

leaving each other

in no doubt

 an iceberg

crashing into the sea

as the sun rises

 the cold

making all smiles wider

than the sea

 a morning spider

slowly reaches its shadow

as i make toast

 where the bird leaves

are landing the mouse leaves

are running away

 cold swim

the dance of my hands

all the way home 

 slipping

and loosing control

of winter

 after wild swimming

cracked lips rosy cheeks

and a big smile

 backside facing out

a squirrel in a tree hole

slowly dying

 hospital night shift

a blind man plays harmonica

amazing grace

 flittering 

a blue tit on a branch

in the cat’s eyes

 haiku

in the snow storm

drift

 warm soup 

happy thoughts 

frost

 embrocation 

the sprain migrates

an idea

 falling leaves

the temple cat is sitting

all is gold

 when you stop 

creating transience 

it doesn’t 

baiting

the mind’s trout stream

waiting

 we closed his eyes

the man who said he wouldn’t die

would not close his eyes

what was the last thing he saw

he didn’t bite my finger

 north wind

pigeons without necks

in the silver birch

 a tumble dryer

is a liar about time’s

damp squib

 not to be sneezed at

a wild winter sea swim

cures a cure

 cat’s tray

see to the washing

winter chores

 reading the poets

not to write like the poets

but like myself

 the cat

and the sparrows 

twitching

 i just thought

there is no outside to a thought

what do you think 

 unfortunately 

it was a small funeral

all his pals were dead

 at dawn

the white houses turn pink

in bethlehem 

 i read them

to learn how to write

i wrote

i listened to them

to learn how to read

i said

 morning sunshine  

through the corkscrew hazel

talking to the wall

 my words

have a different meaning

to your words

 car park 

a fluorescent light flashes

on and off

 our parents

they drop their leaves 

we kick them 

 the stray cat is full

crows return to the feast

squirrelling 

 in the slow intake

of a hushed breath at dawn

thoughts flow

 nightfall 

bringing in the cold towel

east wind

 fog

lifting in the falling 

of its rising

 it’s OK puss

i gave him some food

he’s gone now

 lost

the fog’s

distance