Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Teapot Tuesday

Sticky Fingers

We glued my miniature furniture back together

Sticky fingers remain

Why miniature when no one will squeeze into such a tiny seat?

Sticky fingers

Why glue?

Sticky fingers

Thus we are held in miniature, secured with bondage of a chemical intractable nature

Sticky fingers

The miniatures restored, seats for miniature animals taking miniature tea

Sticky fingers

Only a lover of long would submit to

Sticky fingers

for such as these


Sunday, March 18, 2012

Sunday Trees

Sunlit Flats

Walk with me along the smooth pavement of the footway

where the sun makes zebra-patterns with the tree shadows

and I will show you the light glittering on upper-storey windows of silent flats –

voices are never raised

Here the white paint always gleams:

dustless Saturday afternoons wait

while the natives (dressed by Harvey Nicks) drape on sofa and mantelpiece

and the cutlery comes in sets of twelve

A string quartet or baroque guitar hushes the hallway

free of cooking smells or greasy flyers for take-away.

The sun shines on upper flats

like winter glaciers in the Alps –

Do you see from the pavement it looks pristine?


Friday, March 16, 2012

We are a ship travelling across a desert sea

We are a ship travelling across a desert sea

We are a ship travelling across a desert sea:

passengers disembark at ports in time

some tours join in a crowd of couples and families

some lone transports slip alongside and move with us for a wave or two

then slip away turning across the current

We have our own captain's table for the chosen ones –

the receiving line

the fancy dress

the set piece dance

We have ‘A’ to ‘H’ decks

the inner and windowless rooms

the balconies and mansion rows

In the hold lurks secret cargo:

stories and discarded characters

There are whole cabins – corridors even –

devoted to good intentions and undelivered charity

From an upper deck I watch the smart couples promenade

take the air or smoke

change partners mid-stride

and wonder at their mysteries

We have our life boat drill and fire training

The dusty sea swirls about us

the ship heaves against a wave

the wind

an approaching storm

There are no icebergs in the desert


Tuesday, March 13, 2012