Old Scars

A scar is like a memory,

(the old man said

as she dressed his arm,)

a fading reminder of the

body’s journey,

a historical

roadmap to be consulted in

idle moments,

unveiling highways

and byways long forgot, welt by

fading welt, as

a breath against a

window pane reveals a blemish

for a fleeting

second and is gone.

John H Davies

31sr XII 2010 

Prison Cat

Cats are a sham. You can’t train a cat.

You don’t have a relationship

with a cat.

Cupboard love they call it.

I instinctively knew this when one

materialised at the bars

of my cell

window, ginger and thin,

and squeezed itself through, with no hint of

a vetting process. I, the choice

for cell-mate,

a silent partner with

whom to share the boredom, beans and rice.

Watching her come and go with ease

opened an

imaginary door,

and we shared private intimacies

that only lovers do: feigning

indifference

as, positioned neatly

on the edge of the toilet rim she

performed her task with the poise of

a tightrope

walker; or when, after

a kick from a guard she came to our

cell and silently delivered

three still, half

formed new arrivals – new

meat. Haggis came to mind as I flushed

them away, one by one while she

watched. It was

what she wanted. I could

tell from her face. And when my time came

to return to the real world and walk

away from

the open cell door,

I felt an indignant stare drilling into my back.

John H Davies

30th XII 2010

Nain (Welsh - Grandmother)

To be crippled with arthritis at forty

would give anyone the right to be

a bit chippy.

Grandchildren scattered when she waved

her crutches in matriarchal semaphore,

and I was scolded

for making a mess of the downstairs

toilet hand basin, her private bathroom

when she visited

as she couldn’t manage the stairs.

And on outings, she had to stay

in the car.

Once I returned to see how she was…

Didn’t she mind being left alone?

‘You get used to it,’ she said.

And as she lay dying in a hospital bed

we came to say goodbye unsure if she

knew we were there

until we walked away, and turning

I saw a tear on her cheek and went

back and held her hand

wishing we could swap places

because I knew she hadn’t

‘got used to it.’

John H Davies

29^th XII 2010 

River Bend

Come with me as far

as the bend

in the river.

And as we draw

closer with every step

the view will widen

on the far bank,

revealing a glimpse

of pastures new

or maybe just

a similar view,

but

come with me as far

as the bend

in the river -

and you can decide

whether we stay

or carry on.

John H Davies

28^th XII 2010 

Love Song

I will be loving you

in the silence

between each breath;

in the pause

between each beat

of my heart.

I will be loving you 

in the space between

each passing cloud.

In the grey morning

and in the fading

twilight,

I will be loving you,

as the wind disturbs

the surface

of the still water.

And buried within the

womblike hum that is

the loudest quiet of all,

I will be loving you.

And in this silence

will you know me.

John H Davies

27th December 2010

Light Switch

Lights out! No talking!

Somebody flicks the switch

And all the cares of the day

Dissolve

Into an abyss

Of darkroom curtain black

Blocking out the slightest chink

Of life

Launching the nightly

Odyssey into that

Alternative world of soft

Focus

Safe, predictable

But finite until a

Pang of hunger calls you

To rouse

And you run from the

Light fumbling for the

Switch again and again but

You can’t

Find it despite all

The diligent practice

And never can because it’s

Too dark.

John H Davies

26^th XII 2010

Christmas Day

The Yule log has lost its lustre

Crackle Crackle Crackle

Avoided expectation driving

A deeper remorse

A shortened trip

Unwanted but wanted, instead

The rowing neighbours

Bang Bang Bang

A guilty memory

And everyone else happy

Burdened with tat

And this year snow

But the tank is dangerously low

Though the thaw will come

Drip Drip Drip

Soothing an ache

Short lived

The muses look on from every room

In silence

John H Davies

25th XII 2010