Low mood
The heaviness
Of the rain
Has brought
on a low mood
So played
T Bone Walker
Loud
And if that fails
Dammit
I’ll go for a walk
And turn
The word channel on
Radio Rob is best.
RAC
Low mood
The heaviness
Of the rain
Has brought
on a low mood
So played
T Bone Walker
Loud
And if that fails
Dammit
I’ll go for a walk
And turn
The word channel on
Radio Rob is best.
RAC
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
Summer snow
The clematis
Climbs
Through
Birch limbs
In front
Of the stables
Heavy rain
Falling
And the white
Petals
Fluttering
Falling too
Summer snow.
RAC

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
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
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.
Lest we forget!
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