The flocks been shorn
The ewes searching, calling
For lambs gone away
What’s my name?
What’s my name
He was four and didn’t know his name
He thought he knew what he was called
But when the teacher called “Ceri”
He didn’t say a thing.
She asked again
And looked at him.
He looked confused
And standing up
Said my names “boy”.
There’s a poverty of the heart.
The examination of time (excerpt).
We are the explorers
Of time.
In which
Our watchfulness
Reveals
A revelation
An awareness
Of life’s turning wheel.
We the silent sentinels
Examine time
Embracing
The glue that alloys
That anneals and binds
The eternal tick,
Hum and thrum
Of the Atomic.
Remembrance
An orchid alone in the orchard
A cuckoo calls in the oakwood
I long for the nightingales return
Llwynypia
Rob Cullen reads his story, ‘Ernie Zobole and the Square’, in response to Zobole’s painting ‘Llwynypia’ (c1953). You can read Rob’s story on the website – https://artisttrails.wordpress.com/2016/04/27/ernie-zobole-and-the-square/
Lest we forget
I pay tribute again/East Coast Tribute (excerpt).
I pay tribute again/East Coast Tribute
Recalling Browne’s
For a Dancer
I’m not sure
what it is
about these days
that reminds
me about those times
on the East Coast
and of that Christmas
in 73.
A square that was never a square when it was a tram stop!
No answer
No answer.
I was awake sitting upright in darkness
Listening to the sound of spitting rain
hitting the skylights darkened pane
from the rhythm of my hearts racing
I knew that something had happened
that feeling in my gut of hopelessness
And I heard you say “Is it Tourette’s
The way you shout in your sleep”
And it was that waking time again
when nightmares and terrors reign
calling me from dreams so deep
It’s a kind of Russian roulette.
The dream felt as if it was real
as if it was really happening
as if I hadn’t been here before.
But it was the same time, same hour
that same real body feeling
sweating, heart beating. Real.
I was shouting out loud again
that noise echoing in my brain.
That noise that crunching sound.
That noise of steel being ground
brought me out of my sleep
Sweating, heart beating. Real.
Perfect Guiness Add
Waiting
You said we’d meet in the Packet
a bar that had a rough reputation
I wondered about that
as I ordered a Guiness.
You always kept me waiting
that was one of the things
one of many things
I liked about you.
The bar had fallen silent
I looked around and saw
the seagull on the top
of a broad brimmed straw hat.
You were six feet two
and stood head and shoulders
above the men lining the bar
all of them looking at you.
The sun glasses you wore
stared at me above
that wide white toothed grin
you said make that two pints.
I loved waiting for you.
