Two for International Poetry day


The darkened mind set of a cubist dream,

Velvetine curtains and smelly feet aroma,

Sticky popcorn stickier floors human fly paper.


The darkened box hides many secrets,

Youthful amateurish fumblings,

Exhausted families as fireflies,

Stuttered to life.


The mindless drone numbs the mind,

As endless sodas fill the void,

Many vistas lay before them.


In the corner an elder slept,

In between bingo moments,

Misty mountains, yellow brick roads.


Grand fathers reflected on Bogart,

Cheered on John Wayne, buckled swashes,

Mirrored moments in side reels.


Technicolour dreams,

Vanilla sky’s and melted ice creams,

Soho land of dirty macs.


The drone ends film runs out,

Fireflies sputtered, died,

As lights came up.




For the ones we love,


For the ones we love moments are precious,

Mock fights with grandfather, stolen polo moments,

Homemade sandwiches, vegetable soup,

Grandmother busies the table with a happy smile.


We gathered frog spawn you an innocent chasing moments,

Dreams are for tomorrow now we lived for seconds,

Passing unseen- time the quiet stalker plucks the strands,

Leaves the mosaic of our live unravelled.


Brothers played in rock pools far from empty streets,

Moments of madness shook foundations as we laughed and played,

Fell on coccyx bruised our egos buried childhoods toys.

We danced to invisible flautists.


The awkward first kiss, stolen glances,

Took my breath away, I loved you then,

Loved you still quietus…the heart beats-


These words are for the ones we,

Love, the ones we left behind.  

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