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Proximity
It was time for lunchAlmost too lateAt the junctionHesitating for passing trafficAn alternative caught his eyeNot Fate, but the waiterBrought them together(Or possibly the coupleWho cancelled after a tiffSteeped in wearinessThat left a vacancy)You know how the French loveCafé tables too close together?It’s to encourage conversationShe opened him upWith a simple Affaires ou loisirs?He confessed →
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On The Beach
Plenty of fresh airTo blow away the cobwebsSign says, “VACANCIES” ~ n.b. NaPoWriMo 2024 Day 7 prompt :Postcard. I dug this card out of the archives. CLP 07/04/2024 →
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Forget All That’s Gone Before
All players are gatheredFor the initial briefingInside some are cheering As others are grievingThe old king is deadLong live the kingWhen the old one is shotA new gaffer walks inDon’t imagine it is trueBecause of course it’s notThere’s no fresh startNo slates wiped cleanIts not a new dawn whenMonarchs still rule ~ n.b. NaPoWriMo 2024 →
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Go With Our Blessing
Accidents of birthBorn beneath the lightsNot quite the Bow BellsWe can all agreeSpecial all the sameIslanders all threeNorthward the first wentAs far as you can goBeside the German SeaAs that sea was in fact once knownHe played a lot in red and whiteFor Sunderland AFCThe second went to the EastA Viking port of oldHe became →
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Table Top
I present you with the facts. The measure is eight thousand and forty-eight point two miles from the cricket field in West Sussex, England, (where the two men played together for the same village side during the summers), to the top of Table Mountain. The rotating cable car travels some nine hundred and ninety-one feet →
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Deeply, Madly, Platonically
In truth, at firstYou were not the main attractionAlthough your bright green dressWith those sharp white seamsWas and always is immaculateRegardless of the time of dayOr eveningOr cast of weatherIt was that part of you that initially caught my eyeAnd breathIn wonder at the prospect of such magicYou might conjure upFrom that simple piece of →
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on time
Gentlemen, we meet againI know the chill of that long wallWhere your names are cut in stoneBeside the Haileybury chapelNinety years from your leavingI repaired the cricket squaresWhere you had playedRolled the pitches where you ranFrom wicket to wicket in your whitesResponding to the call of “Yes”As you had been coachedYou set off promptlyWith all →
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blossom
the ornamental garden heavy with bloomsperfume strong enough to holda presence in the easterlybumble bees’ wings silentthey drink from deep cherry wellsnubs of pollen caught on their thighspetals brighten, whiten in sunlightflashing through the broken cloudyou crane your neck nestle your nosein a garland of petalsfresh enough to hold firmto buds from whence they sproutedwe →
Journey of Words 