Old Shoes

Like old forgotten shoes in the back of the cupboard

Waiting to found.

To be dusted off and polished,

Once more to be in fashion, soles upon the ground.

The comfort of the ages gliding around the floor.

The feel of the familiar,

My bare feet regaling, alive once more.

La Dose

Fais-moi signe.

Un clin d’œil

Ou deux.

Trois même,

Si ça te fait plaisir.

Pour ma part une moitié

Sera suffit.

Je ne suis pas gourmande,

Juste en manque.

Here's the translation.

The Fix

Give me a sign.

The blink of an eye

Or two.

Three even,

If that’s what works for you.

For me just half is enough.

I’m not greedy,

Just in need

Of a fix.

Wilfrid

Will fried

Will fried pie eyed

Will fried cried

"La plus bonne de toutes les filles,

Une fille terrible."

Will fried

Will fried disguised

Will fried tried

To explain, falling over

Her apron strings

Paris 1998

Gone

Rattling 'round the jingle jangle of my time

The isidious, seeping sentimentality of your lost soul.

Screaming as it peters out,

Knowing it will be consecrated to the dwindling periphery

Of tomorrow's crucified dawn.

Manchester 2009

Trust

I

Me

Myself

I

Me

The one

The only

I

Not you

Not he

Not she

But I

The be

The end

The all

I

Manchester 2004

Untitled 1

This is not my time.

You take me to the heights wrapped in radiance,

Yet engulfed by blindness

I drop into the cradle of my sadness.

Awoken I writhe to see my senses,

Stare at their numbness and await the winging of my soul.

For that will be my time.

Indonesia 2000.

Brain Stains

The silence echoing around the cathedral of my mind says it all.

Reality speaks though slurred

Leaving brain stains on the floor.

Jigsaw splatterings form the words

You've kept locked up in that treasured box,

Carried since eternity.

Come take the rusted key from this proffered palm

And let lightness free.

Manchester 2009

In View

Your gentleness still shines through.

I know there can be no more,

And I won’t ask it of you.

Just tenderly accompany me on my journey,

In compete ease,

Side by side as before.

Follow my steps from afar

As I shall yours.

Manchester 2009

The Merry Round-and-Round

Here comes the Merry Round-and-Round,

Up and down,

All through town,

Distracting us from wake time.

He smelled her need,

She took no heed,

Her senses open to his seed.

Sat her on a pretty horse,

Led her on a happy course,

Upon the Merry Round-and-Round.

Until she fell upon the ground,

Arms outstretched

In a heap, feeling cheap.

Then came the sound

Once more abound

Upon the Merry Round-and-Round.

Paris 1997

The Mirror

Don't cut there!

Why not? 

Just here, just a nick.

Slow and intentioned. 

You're only thinking of yourself, 

And the pain you'll have to endure.

That face in the mirror unshaven 

With shackled eyes asking, "Why?"

Well it's either you or me in that stance.

Who is it to be? 

Composing the Past Once More

Here is the 2nd edition of the poem all thanks to Palou. I feel it flows much better now and the grammatical mistakes have been ironed out. 

Cours, mon petit, cours!

Le vent t'emmènera, en volant tout deviendra clair,

La hauteur te séparera de toi-même.

Ainsi, plus rien ne pourra te nuire.

N'aies pas peur d'être en morceau, 

La légèreté saura te reconstruire.

Reste entortillé dans les nuages, 

La terre nourricière attendra infiniment

Le jour où tu lui rendras sa bonté,

En t'effondrant doucement dans ses bras.

Composing the Past

It's been many years since I wrote in French but this morning I had an urge and here's what came forth. Thankfully my dear friend Flo helped iron out some errors. I've translated it below. 

"Cours mon petit cours,” elle a crié. 

“Le vent t’emmènera, en volant tout deviendra clair,

La hauteur te séparera de toi même. 

Comme ça plus rien ne pourra te nuire.

N’aie pas peur d’être en morceau, 

La légèreté te remettras en entier.

Reste entortillé dans les nuages, 

Si douces ses paroles, n’est-ce pas?

Ta terre nourricière attendra infiniment

Le jour où tu lui rendra sa bonté 

En s'effrondrant doucement dans ses bras.“

“Run my darling run,” she cried.

"The wind will carry you, all will come clear in flight,

The height will separate you from yourself.

Then no more shall you be hurt.

Don’t fret of being in pieces,

The lightness will make you whole, once more.

Stay enveloped in the clouds,

Such sweet nothings, no?

Your earth mother will forever wait

The day you return her kindness

By collapsing gently into her arms.”

The Velveteen Habit

 

It’s a Velvet kind of day.

 When the lingering cadence,

 Wraps itself round my pale blue eyes,

 And slithers down soothingly,

 Occupying that grandiloquent void,

 In a Velvet kind of way. 

Sugared Fancies

 

Do come forth imagined tales,

 Take me far away,

 Into midnight ramblings,

 And lands in which to stray.

 Riding ‘breast a manatee tail,

 Beside the souped up sea,

 Dive into the mushroomed scape,

 And dine on urchin tea.

 Scoop me up oh ladle wave,

 Throw me to the sky,

 To skim along helixed shores,

 Until one wonders why. 

Riding High

Riding High

Upon a self-righteous horse

Until one notices the fall 

So long ago taken

Moonbeams

 

Moonbeams skating across lightly lit, rippling ponds.

Hands reached out to catch just a trace,

Only one.

Hours I spent stretched on my knees, eyes fixed,

But dark they remained whilst silver flitted

Inches away.

Not one second did I falter or fall,

Until the orange dawn spread throughout

And I stood tall.

Chalked Up

Why pander to the unseen masses 

Only for them to scratch away 

Slowly eroding whatever vestige remains

Of peppered explorations

Which began at the first broken dawn

Limits

Mortality

Standing on the edge of a precipice

Staring into a finite space which

Lasts as long as my memory

The Smallest Things

Patience

The soaring lark brings

New shoots upon the maple

Some eaten, torn, in bloom

Until returned to bare

 

Age

Dancing sunlight on

Discordant waves ruminates

Centuries old sand

 

Hushed

Better left untold

Did you see the scene unfold?

The options were limited as I’d no idea you’d lied.

Still so innocent, 

Not even in your presence after all this time.

In essence nothing has changed yet a lifetime

Of movement, joys and failings of a kind

Which belie our time together.

The memories that endure the tethers

Of our Reigns slip through whether

We want them to or not.