Magpie
It’s only now,
as I dissassemble your magpie nest
Of all things old, shiny and unusual;
Your semi complete collections:
Glasses, fans, gloves, collar studs
stoneware, glassware
an aladdins cave of discarded objects
Found by you and kept safe
That I start to know you.
You were distant for a long time
too much tragedy, too many battles too young,
Too late you demanded my friendship,
Wheedled and sulked like a child,
Your nest was too prickly for me to sit comfortably in.
And now I sense you as a young girl
Bossy, driven, organising
Full of idea and excitement, adventure
Ronnie Scotts, Pantomimes, Rome
Days on the beach, dancing…
And the letters pour in,
memories, stories, little glimpses of you
happier days, than these later years.
My father said, when I was a teenager
That I had all the worst bits of the two of you,
He said it with a smile but it troubled me.
It is still in my head as I bag and box.
Your sister is keen to de-clutter
But talks as if you were some kind of saint, a martyr
She rifles through your bits and pieces with purpose,
Egging my father on to clear the decks.
Cautiously I remove things from the dustbin
thinking that after all the effort of keeping them so long,
I should at least find these treasures new homes to go to.
A friend suggested a summer season of car boots,
I tried one but lay awake all night
Agonising over whether you would have approved
Of my wholesale disposal of your hoard.
We are all of us, exhausted from our careful
De-construction of your kingdom,
Such passion and time poured into the creation of it.
You did good things, you were loved and you are missed
But I am relieved, to rediscover the space and the light,
To banish the pungent odour of mothballs and dust.
I am relieved.
J. Brain June 2010
The Christening Party pt II
250 miles we went,
to see them wet the babys forehead.
A small and precious thing
Unknowing of the road ahead
Unfearing, unaware.
In the church we sang and prayed
And our echoes never dinted the hills around
Or raised the head of sheep and lambs
Til the stamping of our feet on stone and rock
For the after service coffee and the buffet queue
Rang out, sang out with relief.
250 miles we went to hold the baby
let the tiny fingers grip us, asking
Keep me, hold me, guide me
And when the music started
We talked more softly, knowing
Of the duty before us all.
And as the steam from paper mill churned out beside our gathering
And the river water tipped and churned past our feet
We strived to recapture noble thoughts within us and be good.
In the grassy verge, a rabbit shivered, half blinded and dying
Someone for the sake of mercy held it by its legs and
Dashed it against a low stone wall,
Spattering blood on his Sunday shirt
A wetting and a blooding seems fitting
for such a party.
The Christening Party
I realise there has been no laughter
For a long while.
Standing at the back of the room
Moving to the music
I look around and notice the man in the fleece
Has swapped places
And that there aren’t enough chairs.
A woman is dancing with a baby in her arms,
Another flailing out of time and intent
On the floor.
New life, old life and somewhere in between
Swaying, standing, lost in memory
Engrossed in continuing the history
The pattern.
Outside a dog barks, and someone laughs
as the singer and the guitarist finish and look up
Expecting, or perhaps fearing the applause,
The backing track clicks on.
So here it is
So this is it, simply put
I love you.
I do not love you solely, just you and you alone
But you are part of my being
Your soul sings to mine
My soul replies.
The truth is this,
I love you.
If you would accept this,
If it was of worth to you
If you weren’t so lost in the complexities
Of games and too much thinking
Cross examination
You would know.
Here it is then,
My care, my empathy, my laughter, my solace, my friendship, my hand on your hand, my attention, my understanding, my infuriating ways, my bad habits, my insensitivity, my imperfection, my cravings, my fixed points, my immovable nature, me, mine, love.
Artsmonkey, Sept 2009
(via swingsandroundabouts)
Oh what a song, and there’s something about this font face too…
