Nearly Love

(a parting sonnet for Jean)

Let`s not call this cosy comfort love,

But only say that once there was a time

When the loneliness and travel-heat of the way

Became too much for us, when it was enough

To leave the world go by us and recline,

I in your deep kindness, you in mine.

And though we boast: we never did betray

Cupid with words – being much...

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It`s a fall! A drop!

Sheer from the top

Joy to the sight it is.

A drape! A cape!

Sleek on her neck`s nape,

A helmet of light it is.

It`s a spilled sluice

Of gold juice

At the vintage-squeeze it is.

(The slight stir

Of one hair

Caught in the breeze it is.)

It`s the deep gleam

Of that oak beam

At the head of the stairs it is.

The silk glow

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Let us send back every immigrant
And anthem our nationalistic tune 
(and ignore the old white elephant
who stands-unheeded -in the room)

This is about the requirement that prosperous consuming countries 
with aging populations will always need contiuous immigration in
order to replenish perishing consumers, replace perishing workers 
(skilled but-mainly-low paid ones), and fin...

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What America required,
Insisted new president Trump,
Is a non-politician inspired
To lift the U.S. from it`s slump.

(Now that they`re in poor `condition`
And urgently need to be cured
Only a quack non-physician
Will see all their glory restored) 
 

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(a `tidied up` re-post)

In the aftermath of war
And plenitude
Of remnant explosives
Gerasimos
Had `come into possession` 
of several
Hand grenades.

And, desiring
to eat 
Of more fish
Than a mere net afforded,
Had chanced his arm
At the concussing method
Of piscatorial capture.

Something
(A faulty safety pin perhaps?)
Failed.

And - 
On that occasion -
...

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Now that everybody`s  hoverin`
Wonderin` just who is sovereign.
We`re hearin` quite a lot of gabble
From all the stay and brexit rabble.
The winners on- fifty two percent-
Wonder where their triumph went,
As the discontented forty eighters
Are condemned as foxy re-instaters.
The final split was miles from wide
(With record turn outs on each side)
So, For fear of communal discontent    
...

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I must have passed this attic door,
Framed in it`s mist of quietness
 A thousand times
I wonder what it was
That bid me now
Accept the invitation
And come in.

This journey
Through nostalgia country
Has been sweet.
Past the old rocking horse
(my first addiction)
My old three-wheeler bike
Upon which - trailing
A panic of pursuing womenfolk -
I first burst out the bonds of neigh...

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(This is an`older to a younger` poem for Susan
who falls in-and out-of love very, very often.)

Susan…in love again?
Headlong,
Faith strong,
Soul soaring above again?

Susan…for keeps again?
Swift lunge,
Far plunge,
Into emotional deeps again?

Susan…complete again?
Eyes bright
With content-light,
Swept off your feet again?

Ah!… but then?

Susan…distraught ...

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(we poets are usually a pessimistically miserable
 lot..so something happier for National poet`s day)

The world sits silent round the Eastern stair 
The sky grows lovely - lucid now - and calm, 
While fresh-fed streams of newly wakened air 
Caress my lifted brow like soothing balm.

The tardy remnants of the dark`s black cloud
Pursue the somber rearward of the mass,
Reluct...

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(I revised this radically to read at the well-attended
 Everyman last night. where I listened to our own Joy
France reading and continued to wonder why the
local radio or T.V. scouts hadn`t yet `discovered` 
`scouse` poet  Ralph Killey....they must be blind.)

(The full story)

It`s attested scientifically
That that fish I had last night for tea
(battered so deliciously)
Has now ...

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(on Reading my poem)

God`s got a sense of humour

It`s plain as it can be.

That God`s got a sense of humour

Is there for all to see.

God`s got a sense of humour,

A merciful sense of humour,

An ineffable sense of humour,

Or how could he love me?

(on reading Adrian`s)

That God`s got a sense of humour

Is undeniably true,

And to put the point...

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It had been betrayal
And I knew it
As I sat on the tavern stool
Disconsolate.

In the hollow
That had been my heart
Firebrands spluttered
And several
Disconcerted presences
Were writhing
From the unaccustomed light.

 Pat on cue
Sidled monsieur solliciteur
Purring of captivation
Helplessness
All of the intertwiningly enticing
Eve rousing Adam
Plea for a compassionate ac...

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It had been betrayal

And I knew it

As I sat on the tavern stool

Disconsolate.

In the hollow

That had been my heart

Firebrands spluttered

And several

Disconcerted presences

Were squirming

From the unaccustomed light.

When to my ear

sidled Senor Consolatio

Whispering of enthrallment

Helplessness

All of the physically indeterminable

...

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Forlorn, alone, bewildered, and un-respected
(Apart from foreign faces with foreign voices)
She passed away ,and never quite suspected
That all was due to her faith in female choices.
 

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(A  her, him, them, and us poem)

Look at the grace of her!
The leap,
The sweep,
The joy of the game in the face of her!

That delicate chip of her!
The snick,
The flick,
The swing of the curve of the hip of her!

The glorious zest of her!
The bounce,
The flounce,
The exuberance swelling the breast of her!

........................

Look at the pace...

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(A  her, him, them, and us poem)

Look at the grace of her!
The leap,
The sweep,
The joy of the game in the face of her.

That delicate chip of her!
The air,
The flair,
The camber and curve of the hip of her.

The glorious zest of her!
The bounce,
The flounce,
The exuberance swelling the breast of her.

........................

Then the nerve of him!
...

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STUNNED!

Is the  word
Most
In the minds
Of
Everyone
(Including
Johnson, Gove, I.D.S.,
And even Farage)
 

But when
Our new
Leaders of the fifth
Of the top ten
Economies
In the whole world.
(with 60 million purchasers)
Bid for a return

With
The E.U. leaders
Of the fourth, sixth, and eighth
Of the top ten
Economies
In the whole world,
(With 350 million purchasers)

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(for fiesty old pro-choice Celia)

Our haggarded, old, `protected` generation
Fail to see our present need for immigration:
That all the foreign tongues and foreign faces
   Supply all the left-empty contracepted spaces.
How can we meet our manufactory needing 
Without the fruits of foreign female breeding?

(Of course proud Albion used to breed it`s own
 In bygone days when kids were al...

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(how it came to be writ)

Once upon a time a young would-be poet turned
Union executive member attended a T.U.C. course
At Oxford`s University College (at which Shelley 
had - for a minimal time - studied) and struck up a
friendship - based on their mutual love of poetry -
 with the beautiful secretary of the tutor. Their after - 
lecture rambles and chats became longer and more
close...

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(Graham has started a discussion thread on the use
of the concept of dream in present-day poetry.
Which is why I have posted this somewhat revised
oldie as a practical demonstration of one of it`s uses) 

(Feisty old pro-choice Celia`s dream).

Celia would say with that sly old knowing wink:
`If this Almighty really existed wouldn`t you think
That he`d want us unbelieving folk t...

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I`m a floating voter
Can`t make up my mind
Which I`m going to vote for
I`m just the wavering kind,
Whether to remain or Brexit
They`re worried where my one vote goes,
Should I stay - or head toward the exit?
I`m one of the great don`t knows.

Now my lady wife is having
The best time of her life.
Because they have to make a fuss of
A floating voters wife.
When they came to kiss the b...

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY

With all the country fluttering
The old red white and blue
And everybody uttering
Their loyalty to you

May I just take a moment out
-Apart from all the fuss-
And thank you most sincerely ma`am
For your loyalty to us.
 

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Memorial for an unremarked foetality

Pitiful,
Mangled,
Interrupted thing.
Ramshackle remnant
Of what aspired to be a shape,
Ignominiously dumped
Into the sarcophagus
Of this
White
Plastic
Bucket
Hail!
wwwwwwwwwwwwww
wwwwwwwwwwwww
wwwwwwwwwwww
wwwwwwwwwww
wwwwwwwwww
wwwwwwwww
wwwwwwww
 

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This is a re-post which might perhaps cast a little light on
a couple of the ongoing discussions about comments and
 `posthumously` changing-or not changing-a finished poem. 

AFTERWARDS

Asleep?
So soon?
How quietly you breathe,
How almost imperceptible
The gentle rising of your breast.
Swiftly indeed
The insistent urging of desire
Has succumbed
And docile now
Rocks
In it`s peac...

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On Monday night I read at the Liver Bard`s Ma Boyles, which is next to
 the little church yard where - in 1943 - one of the Wrens from the
Western Approaches headquarters (which was just up the road) gave
half of a - then impossible to get - banana to one of the fourteen 
year old cablegram lads who used to deliver cables to them, and
 rewarded that young lad`s taste buds with an absolute del...

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A re-post with an additional stanza (6) just to keep my hand in.

(for Janine`s 21st)

Behind her was a width of land,
Before, a wider width of sea,
Between, a mile of flat, wet sand
Then a track foot-trod determinedly.

Until, skirt-tucked, flamingo-stanced,
She stood, delighted, chortling there,
While a million crinkling ripples danced
As the cheeky sea grinned back at her.

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My lovely Cleopatara! your eyes

Were deep-lit jewels of Paradise

Your hair a swift, sleek flow of sheeny jet

Your lips, soft ruby pillows laid for dream.

Your breasts twin, mystic, desert temples set

To guard the impassioned royal heart between.
 

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FOR FREDA OCTOLUNES
(see discussion thread)

A MAIDEN`S PLEA.

Moon, oh, moon,
Oh, Lady moon, this night,
From the cool serenenes of your height
Grant to me
An irresistibly white
Enchanting witchery,
(Most lovelily)
In the silent shedding of your light.

THE FELLERS PLEA

Moon, listen
I want to ask a favour:
when we start kissin`
Give me lips some flavour,
And don`t...

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