Chuffed to have my poem ‘Present in Scent’ in Ink, Sweat and Tears today.
Category Archives: scent
My third colour poem makes the triad of painter’s primaries. It takes its starting point from a lively tune I remember from the radio when I was a small boy. Of course I didn’t know then that the origins of the song went back over a hundred years earlier, or what the lyrics were about. Continue reading
Sounds of rain
Staccato taps syncopate
justification on your cautious hood.
Something a little different – a series of seven ‘photo-label-poems’.
These are a light hearted response to an invitation from my brother-in-law to take part in a seven day ‘nature image’ photography challenge.
I decided to combine my response with a small collection of old laboratory bottles loaned from a colleague at work, and with some [very] short poems responding to each image, in the form of a label…
So many alternatives
Here, there, everywhere.
Shall I, shan’t I?
A multiverse of tuneable futures.
The Lady Vanishes
Was she real, was she ever, or was she
The impure fluid green fairy of liquid confusion?
Do all her accessories also dissolve,
Or she herself alone, leaving only air
To cosset a sudden feminine free-falling of silk, chiffon, and organza?
See Pick of the Day
Best of the batch, top of the heap
Today’s top tale, or tomorrow’s –
Back when chips had a whiff of printer’s vinegar –
STOP PRESS! (red ink, block caps) –
A late-night poke from Brattisani’s wafting so salt-n-saucily into the house.
(Until 2004 Brattisani’s was a family run fish-and-chip shop in Edinburgh, reputedly the first, or one of the first, in Scotland)
A circle remains acceptable,
a periphery traced will
leave the walk unspoiled.
In balance but un-symmetrical.
retread time already mingled
with our recent scents, so as
Sines from a cyclic, we wander
along the wave until
we sense our true lie.
an old drawer
old diaries bound gilded
Letts not quite leather
Toblerone section promotional pencils
a penknife required to
make a point or extract a fly
demi-bics from the betting shop
always unused hide cased poker dice
shirt suspenders the essence of unsexy
a musk of dampness
in cold air.