Low moods

Low moods

 

Soon it will be

the anniversary

of your death

the weather

cleared

that midsummers day

And the mourners

danced

to celebrate

your life

in an open field

That long

circular dance

that once

you would

have called

to the drone

of an accordion

And so the body

kindly reminds

loss is about

remembering

the good times

and the goodness

of you.

 

RAC

Turning the other way

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Turning the other way

I’m confused
and need
to let it out.
To clarify
the position
I’m used to looking
at the people
who harm
the young directly.
Or the ones
who know
what’s going on
what’s being done
but do nothing
to intercede
say nothing
and even pretend
they hear nothing
and so share
responsibility
culpability
of a kind.
But what do
we say
when politicians
or a governments
policies of austerity
harm children
directly.
And we say nothing
we do nothing.
Some don’t even see it.
I heard them
Blithely speak
this morning
of more cuts
more austerity!
We live
in a blame
culture
compassionless
succumbed
to the mindlessness
of watching
life on a screen
not really living
at all it seems.

RAC

Golden hair

Golden hair

 

I remember

You now

We walked

From school

We couldn’t pay

The bus fare

Or at least

We used

the money

to play

the pinball

in Luigis

on the Square

listening

to the Supremes

on the Juke box

or maybe

the Blue Jeans

Sometimes

You’d hold

Me tight

Your eyes wide

So bright

And then laugh

And spin away

To jive

In that way

And look

At me again.

 

RAC

Walking from school

 

The walk from school

 

Walking home

from school

with a friend.

She golden

wrinkled haired

laughed smiled

I remember

her green eyes

the same year

Sylvia Plath

died alone.

The gas oven.

Town gas.

And she walked

home from school

to find her mother

lying down there

on the kitchen floor.

And Jackie

Had gone too.

 

Blessed days

A second hand
bookstall.
John Clare’s
Collected Poems
mint condition.
Unopened.
The spine unfolded.
Then a surprise
Ruth Benedicts
(my hero)
Race and Racism
from 1942.
Days like this are blessed.
Sitting now
in quietness
reading
familiar lines.