Poem For a Busy City

July 24, 2010

Look up, look up please
Into the eyes of your fellow human beings
The pavement holds interest
But not for long
So look up, look up please
And wash your face in the sun.

Look up, look up please
At all the wonders you’ve yet to see
Man’s work is too great
To just be ignored
So look up, look up please
You shouldn’t need to be told.

Look up, look up please
No need to keep watch on your feet
They know their way
That’s the beauty of being
So look up, look up please
And see the marvels I’m seeing.

Look up, look up please
And maybe you won’t walk into me
It’s a busy, busy city
It’s a crowded little town
So look up, look up please
And I’ll think about slowing down.

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Crushing Bees

July 22, 2010

Crushing bees beneath your heel
Is what I think you’d call overkill
But crushing bees beneath your heel
I have to admit, takes some skill.

Oh My God, its a Moth.

July 21, 2010

There is a moth on the tube
And if I don’t help it get out
No one else will and it will die.

Everyone’s looking at it
Bewildered by the thought
Of how exactly it got there
But no one is helping it out.

And now I have to get out
Sorry little moth
That I couldn’t help your situation
But at least I’ll sleep tonight
Knowing I gave it my consideration.

Afterwards

July 21, 2010

‘cross a bridge
Sighing again
At an opportunity
Which knocked and ran.

Scott Walker 3
Or Scott Walker 4
Which is best?
And what is more
Who could care less,
Walking ‘cross a bridge
Sighing again?

Memories of Nanny

July 21, 2010

This is something I wrote for my grandmother’s funeral service recently. Its simply some of my memories of her life with my grandfather who died 10 years ago, in their bungalow in Twyford.

Ten years he’s been calling now
From a long-empty arm chair
In a far-off front room somewhere
Calling for her to come to him
To bring his lunch in from the kitchen
But for ten years now she’s been busy
And this ten years has not answered him
Busy baking and brewing tea for everyone
Saving old papers in a box in the back room
Busy spreading honey over thick toasted bread
Making soups and jams, filling jars, making beds.
Busy in the garden ‘mongst the flowers and bees
Busy on her knees, pulling weeds
And planting and pruning and gathering up
The beans and the berries in a plastic tub
Busy making sure everyone’s alright
That we’re comfy and have everything we like
Busy giving and sharing, busy caring
About all the people she knows
and those she hardly knows at all
Remembering faces and old stories of places
We’ve all forgotten long ago
Busy until the end of every day
Spending time sending letters to say
Hello, and how she’s thinking of you,
Always telling you straight, telling it true.
Busy up until the end arrives
Until the busyness stops and it becomes time
To finally answer that distant call
And join him in that front-room forever more.