Brown Skin

29/11/2013

Brown Skin

I lost my memory. It’s no big deal.
I can recall the sandpit where I built
Tall towers, castles and the hills between,
But now I find it difficult to tell
Who of the carers helped me when I cried.
When I had lost my bearings, lost myself?
I know that she was tall, that she was built
On ample Polynesian lines, brown skinned.
I thanked her at the time. I cannot now.

Washerwoman

2/12/2013

The German poet Chamisso

Who lived two hundred years ago,
Philosophized about a woman
Who scrubbed and washed his dirty shirts.

He wrote that she had silver hair.

(Of course he meant the hair was white)
He said she had three healthy kids,
But widowed brought them up alone.

And yet she always smiled and proved

That faith in God and love of duty
Suffice to keep you on your feet
When you are over seventy.
 
I do present this poetry
To you who does my shirts and socks.
Your hair not silver, and you use
Machines unknown to Chamisso.
 
And you are nowhere near seventy!

Joyous Cry

I do not like the endless repetition  

 In what you write, in what you versify.

It’s death and death and death in every strophe.

Do you intend to teach the few that read

Your poems and your fable stories

That this is all we can look forward to?

I beg you, do desist, and like all poets

Employ the license that permits you saying:

Life, happiness, and beauty never, never vanish.

.

I would not claim that death is beautiful,
But it is constant, inescapable,
And thus precedes your life, your happiness and beauty.
You have seen beauty fade, your happiness
Submerged in sorrow, death supreme.
Regardless of your lifetime’s victories
Death conquers all, lays bare the greenest fields.
Be you a fly or homo sapiens,
You end prostrate and speculate no more.

So, would you say that we can not agree?

I fear that’s so, unless you reconsider

The sudden death of joy, of happiness …

I will, indeed   I more than happily

Recall the times…. the few.. when we had ceased

To speculate or ponder life’s gyrations,

When all our hunger, our thirst was quenched

In darkness lit by gentle touch and murmurs

And ending in a shattering cry of joy.

Zero

10/12/2013

I may yet turn a centenarian.
There is distinction, fortune, maybe fame
For any numeral however small
To have a humble zero in its tail.
Yet zero stands for nought. It proves
That an array of noughts arranged
Behind a figure – never mind its size –
Bestows respect, deserved or undeserved.

Solitary

5/12/2013

 

Breakfast solitary

 

I told a lady as I passed
Her table set for tasty breakfast.
But she was alone:  “You eat  
In solitary splendour!” - “I  what? “-
So then I had to say it all
Again, but to this day I wonder
Which word she had not heard before.

Fame

3/12/2013

Fame

 

“Who will read what I have written?”
Asked the poet with foreboding
“I’ve constructed in an hour
Sixteen lines of perfect wording,
Perfect scan and perfect rhythm
To delight the young and old,
And I’ll wager in the future
My collected works get sold
For a fortune”. – “That may be so,”
Said the lady serving tea,
“In the meantime do remember
They are only read by me!”

Death Next Door

Death lives next door. I know it for a fact.

He calls in ev’ry couple o’months or so
And sidles up to one or other here,
Peacefully sleeping in a chair, or staring
With vacant eyes at things that can’t be seen,
But they can hear the friendly welcome speech:

 

“So how are you, my friend?” And for the ladies:
“Most gracious lady, do let me assist you!”
And be it man or woman lifeless, listless,
They shudder slightly, maybe blink just once,
And then the head will roll, the head will drop,
And nerves and muscles claim eternal rest.

Never Solved

19/12/2013

Never solved
 

To think that I shall die

In what is called,

In what is justly called

The lap of luxury.

 

Three sumptuous meals a day –

A tasty breakfast,

And lunch and dinner served

Beyond reproach.

And for eight peaceful hours

I sleep, I dream

Of problems of my childhood

I never solved.

 

I do repeat I dream

Of unsolved problems,

That used to worry me

And do not now.

 

The reason that I’m granted

This absolution

Must be that I am now

Grown up – I think.