A Long Way Down

The weight of water

deep water

ghosts

surfacing

after you'd gone

That face

little face

closer

coming back to me

answering back

Poem for my son

By your bedside
A small wooden bird
Guards your soul
While you sleep
Breathing life
Keeping you safe
My shadow-soul.

In your dreams
If your soul is lost
He brings it back
And takes care of you
Until the light of dawn
Signals a new day
And sets you free.

Tour de France Prologue

Rotterdam rain
Road damp and greasy
Slippery city streets
Cavalier descent
Gravel and debris
Surface sketchy
Narrow twisty section
Blind bend
Off-camber
And tightening
Broad sweeping curve
Spinning back wheel
Losing traction
Slammed into barriers
Slipped out from bike
Over painted lines
Badly cut lip
Broken right thumb
Torn muscle in left thigh
Blood on the tarmac

Bruised

Tissue crushed
And not connecting
Vessels ruptured
Yet skin unbroken
Trapped blood
No place to go
Tender to touch
Red and purple,
Blue and black,
Green then yellow
Now light brown
Fading away
Like you.
You gave me
All the colours
Of the rainbow.

Blank Tape

The instruction was
“Erase me from your life”
But should I delete you
Or send you to the recycle bin?
Perhaps in the old days of VHS
You could record over things
With something new that’s
More fun and better quality.
But what we all know is
The reused video will wear thin,
Parts of the old film will show through,
And it will probably get stuck
With long tangled spaghetti loops
That ruin the mechanism,
And eventually something will snap.
I need to find me a blank tape.

Prisoner of Azkaban

You whispered in my ear
“Is that Sirius Black?”
“No” I replied, “that’s not him”
“Who is it then? “
“That’s Professor Lupin”

But you insisted
“Is he Sirius Black?”
“No that’s the bus driver”
“When’s Sirius Black coming on? “
“I don’t know, wait and see”

“Is that Sirius Black?
“No, that’s Dumbledore”
(I mumbled back)
“I want to see Sirius Black”
“Yes I know”

“I like Sirius Black”
“Wait who’s that?”
“That’s Snape.
I think he’ll be on soon”
“So WHERE is Sirius Black?”

Then we get to see him
(Sirius Black at last)
“Is THAT Sirius Black?”
“Yes that’s him”
“Oh no - he scares me”

The boy in year 12

You came to see me
And didn’t look up
You stared at the floor
Found a fascination
With your shoelaces.

You asked could I help
You’re not good at writing
Never have been
Have it in your head
Can’t get it onto paper.

I tried to listen
And help in some way
Like pieces of a puzzle
Each day little by little
The words started to flow.

You told me about your brother
No one mentions it at home
You sit in your room
On the Playstation
Can’t seem to concentrate.

I just saw you in the corridor
You shrugged a small glance
I heard you’re leaving soon
But I will hold on hope
That you can make it out there.