BMW

BMW

There comes a moment

When you’re sitting in

Your fourth traffic jam

Of the evening

Just five minutes walk

From the place you left

Forty minutes earlier

And a BMW

Burns casually along

The Right Turn Only Lane

Overtaking your queue

Only to barge straight on

Right across the lights

Seeming oh-so terribly

Pleased with itself for

Displaying such cleverness

That you sit in your car

Wishing really hard

With all your heart that

Everyone in the world

Would just go away

Get out of your way

So you can simply

Get home

MAWH, Feb 2018

SELFIE

SELFIE

The schoolboy
The schoolgirl
Laughing
Joking
Smiling
Outside the town hall
He tells a joke
She laughs
Looking at
A glowing screen
They laugh more

To remind
Passing traffic
That for
Most people
This is how
The world works
They stop
To take a selfie
He grins
She pouts
Indestructible

MAWH, Feb 15 2018

LUNAR CYCLE

LUNAR CYCLE

The lunar cycle is twenty-eight days

Approximately

Twenty-eight days

From new moon to new moon

Standing on a deck awaiting the dawn

Where will the sun rise - a man asked

I told him that the moon’s crescent

Always points towards the sunrise

I don’t think so - he said

Yesterday’s sunrise was off

The other side of the boat

Then he crossed to the far rail

Every lunar cycle needs two weeks

Approximately

Just fourteen days

From new moon to full moon

About one week each from

Full to half (waning)

From new to half (waxing)

And one more week back to full

I watched the sun rising over

The River Nile because no matter

Where the boat is - the moon’s crescent

Always points towards the sunrise

The lunar cycle is twenty-eight days

Approximately

The lit side of the moon

Always points towards the sunrise

I sometimes wonder about that man

How he dismissed my knowledge

I imagine he runs a company earning

Several times more than me a year

People do sometimes get confused

I remember trying to demonstrate

Once why the moon looks different

Because of relative positions of objects

The lunar cycle is thirteen years

Approximately

In that time it will cover the entire sky

Never being in the same place twice

I put a torch on a cupboard

In a darkened room and by orbiting

A tennis ball around their head

Showed them the phases of the moon

For that to work properly

You have to simply imagine

That your head is the earth

Your head representing the entire world

The lunar cycle is twenty-eight days

Approximately

Twenty-eight days

From full moon to full moon

MAWH, February 2018

I'M NOT SOMEONE

I’M NOT SOMEONE

I’m not someone about whom

People tend to fret and worry

Unless of course that is except

When they know I’ve had a curry

I’m not someone over whom

People tend to lust and yearn for

My past romantic history

Must seem exceptionally poor

I’m not someone around whom

People wish to loiter and lurk

When it comes to staying in touch

I have been a bit of a burk

I’m not someone about whom

People tend to excite and thrill

Even in their hottest moments

They’ll take one look at me and chill

I’m not someone who will get

Barely even a second glance

Even the first can be a stretch

If I give somebody the chance

I’m not someone who’s destined

For greatness and all of that stuff

When it comes to matters like fame

I’m just not interesting enough

I’m not someone who will be

Remembered by world history

Some are destined to change the world

I’m just not that clever you see

I’m not someone about whom

People hold a murderous thought

This uncontroversial living

Means nobody ends up in court

I’m not someone who matters much

I’m not someone of note it’s true

I’m simply insignificant

I’m no one anybody knew

I am someone however

Not an important one that’s true

Just a simple someone saying

That I’m a someone too

MAWH, Feb 2018

THE GLOOMSBURY GROUP

THE GLOOMSBURY GROUP

The Gloomsbury Group

Or are they a set

May be an eclectic bunch

But they haven’t met yet

Living at the blunt end

Of the twenty-first century

Inspired ever so slightly

By that crowd in Bloomsbury

For a while they lurked

In dark corners online

Talking about their works

At least some of the time

The Gloomsbury Set

Or are they a club

Overcoming difficulties

But aye there’s the rub

Established for no good reason

In the year twenty-eighteen

Quite exclusive membership

If you know what I mean

Put there for discussions

Advice and mutual support

Giving hope to the hopeless

They’re a line of last resort

The Gloomsbury Club

Or are they a show

If you’re thinking Radio Four

Then the answer is no

A collection of wordsmiths

Paint wranglers and the rest

Of an Arts Community

On something of a quest

They know they ought to do

Something with their art

But often haven’t any clue

About where they should start

The Gloomsbury Show

Or are they a bunch

Lacking any confidence

When it comes to the crunch

It was suggested that they met up

Every once in a while

To have some conversations

Ones that might prove worthwhile

The hows the whys the wherefores

Of producing their somethings

Because sometimes inspiration

Is what someone else brings

The Gloomsbury Bunch

Or are they a crowd

They’re something to shout about

But maybe not too loud

Now there’s always a big risk

When meeting up in bars

That instead of talking business

They start downing a few jars

Quiet coffees turn into beers

Whiskies the odd glass of wine

Though if it’s what people choose to do

I suppose that would be fine

The Gloomsbury Crowd

Or are they a group

It really is a sticking point

How to define this troupe

Now the original Bloomsburys

Numbered around a dozen

And didn’t open up their doors

To everyone and their cousins

Which is why the group is closed

Unless you get an invitation

Although expressing some interest

Might make new worlds of creation

The Gloomsbury Group

Or are they a set

You may think they’re quite hopeless

But they haven’t yet met

MAWH, February 2018 

EARLY SUNDAY MORNING

EARLY SUNDAY MORNING

Beyond the chimney pots
A waning moon glimmers
Bruising the morning sky

Ice crisply snap-crunches
On rain dampened tarmac
Tentatively sliding underfoot

Treading with greatest care
Tomorrow’s sunlight rips
A tear through last night

Yesterday’s owl is heard
But is gone long before
It might have been seen

Shaped snow-capped peaks glint
Against glowering grey skies
Whiteness defines the skyline

Beyond stone walls lights burn
Sunday still lies waiting
Frozen pools catch light

Skeletons of favourite trees
Still waiting to bud and burst
Paused life waiting to happen

Wires crackle life’s messages
Early crows dig out first worms
Before flying nervously away

Natural paintbrushes smearing
Pink lines daubed across the sky
Whilst the sun timidly hides

Pink becomes orange then yellow
Stripes cling to the shapes of dawn
Awaiting inevitable blues

Beyond the wall a pheasant
Struts red blue speckled brown
Cocksure that it was not seen

Bashful sunlight playfully
Tints thick woven cotton clouds
Into soft pink candyfloss

Descending feels steeper
Footings lost regained and lost
As boots glide unexpectedly

Vast road-trapped pools
Reflect upon overnight rain
Their cover melting away

A woodpigeon perches
On the same overhead wire
As it did the day before

Beyond the chimney pots
Sunbursts crack open the day
And I have come home

MAWH, 040218