Our Dave

There once was a man, call him David.

He really believed he had nailed it.

Growing smug and complacent

He lost touch with the nation

And now there’s no way he can save it.



The Ballad of Boris the Brave

Boris running down the aisle,

Wears a calculated smile,

A studied air of bumbling charm,

Stammering provincial yarns.

He’ll scratch his head (much like an ape),

But cleverer make no mistake –

It’s such a shame with all those brains

He’s only out for one man’s gain.

To me to me, I’ll save the people!

We’ll save the rich and cull the feeble.

You had hope once, no need to lose it,

I’ll do a silly dance to prove it!

Amidst the hollow rhetoric

A wind begins to gather force.

It grows in speed around our hero,

Lank blonde locks whipped back and forth.

Lacking depth and gravitas,

His feet are lifted off the ground.

He prattles on without a care,

To politicise the birds and clouds.



She would wait each day,

It was enough to see her

Just for that moment.


The other one

With the child, he seemed

Another man, perhaps kind.

Then he met my eyes.



The moment you have

Just before the eyes open

The world, still silent.



I made a promise.

I could never have told you

It had been broken.



The secrets you have,

Like my lies, I keep for us,

They become us both.


On form

True to form you are

Endlessly appealing but

Impossibly brief.


Wisdom of words

You do or do not.

No try should, might or will keep

You from not acting.


Wisdom between words

Read between the lines,

Make more sense of the world in

What isn’t written.



Turn like the last time,

Vaulted rooms strewn with papers,

Keep you from yourself.


Limits of words

It would never end.

I will never write a life,

Never perfectly.



Passed from hand to hand

The many coloured garlands

Worn just for the day.



By no means tallest,

Stamped on, torn up, discarded,

Nonetheless, you live.


For better

Back again. This time

You say, for good. Not once

Do your eyes meet mine.



A declaration

That one had found the balance

Was met with laughter.


Close to strangers

Another language

And twelve years in between us.

I could still know you.

w/c 02.05

Return to spring

Fast fattening of

Fresh buds fastened on black bark

Marred by cracks like scars.



Out-fretting the nest,

feathers spreading far too wide,

its cries never tired.



A sudden winged rush.

In their midst strange talons flash,

grasp. The flock flies on.


The Spring Fall

The blossom blows down

Like a snow storm in springtime,

the black branches bared.


On the hills

Born too soon, he was

Born too soon. On the hillside

His cold mother cried.


w/c 25.04

Without consequence

At the end of it

Nothing we said could have changed

The things we had done.


The Doors

Behind those closed doors,

were reasons enough to stay,

if they had stayed closed.


The windows in the Cathedral

Brittle, egg shell thin

Cataract white, fine grey veins,

Barely let light in.


Seeing for the first time

Neck bent, bent far back

Breath checked, kept back, eyes locked, held,

Afraid to forget.


The woman who sweeps the floors

Cool stones underfoot

For a moment she stood still,

Hands pressed to her back.