Oh look at the lily

Oh look at the lily 

Oh look at the lily 
calla, curled like a hand, cupping,
backwards somehow, a C
the curve of a D
or meerkats on tiptoe, perky, en garde 
or from another angle the swish of a ballgown
evening elegance
purple these and, viewed from above 
a champagne flute, finger deep 
as bubbles burst 
oh look at the lily
calla, cool creature
proud of her loveliness 

June 28th 2020 Hounoux 

Pleasing as pebbles

Pleasing as pebbles 

I’ve spent my days, long months of days 
when they were shapeless, stretched ahead 
no diaried dates nor outings scheduled 
actually proscribed 
and so instead the cricket matches
rolled, re-rolled, thwack of leather/ willow 
while Mikey’s mellow marvellous 
round and smooth, Jamaican tones
lilted like music, reggae beat. 

Or just as luscious here’s a poet in a shed
guests diverse with expertise and passions, various 
musician, poet, judge, a naturalist fanatical 
and him, the poet laureate 
musing on owl and nightingale 
setting the tone
not news, not graphs/ statistics, not all-pervading panic 
nor of course a panacea 
but still, like pause upon a bench 
in wisteria’s lime-bright shade 
mellow and marvellous, round and smooth 
pleasing as pebbles, the swoosh of the sea
a boon and a pleasure, perfect for me. 

26th June 2020 Hounoux 

Pianola scroll, rolling

Pianola scroll, rolling 

There’s a bird outside my window 
who is singing ceaselessly 
his notes in repetitions
daily delicious, dawn till dusk
this snatch of song, inherited 
imprinted in his DNA
his egg, fledging 
encoded like a pianola scroll, 
rolling out
just this tune his given
no riffing, cutting loose
free-stying not his lot. 
As the sun comes up each morning 
and the moon goes from sliver to full
he opens his throat and exuberance 
extravagant, sweetens the springtime air. 

June 3rd 2020 Hounoux  

The enchantment of my days

The enchantment of my days 

I’ll raise a glass for poetry

shake a tambourine in praise

for the lift it gives my spirit

the enhancing of my days 

For the words arrayed so beautifully 

for euphony and sound 

for the rhythm and the rhyming 

that will make my pulses pound

I’ll rejoice in all the magic

conjured by the poet’s art 

in the verse that triggers laughter 

or knocks sadly at my heart 

In the memories of moments 

buried deep but only sleeping 

childhood hours in search of sticklebacks 

the shock of froglets leaping 

So if I wake despondent 

ravelled cares sleep failed to smooth

I’ll reach for bedside treasury 

and the laureate who soothes 

Or I’ll plunge into some Elliot 

Little Gidding, coffee spoons 

where I’m groping towards meaning 

diving deep and reading runes 

Yes I’ll sing a song for poetry

riff on saxophone in praise 

for the life-affirming loveliness 

the enchantment of my days 

2nd June 2020 Hounoux