Covert Operation

I detected a vague numbness

I always felt before a confrontation;

the feeling you got just before the whistle blew

until first contact at the scrum,

the voyage towards the unknown

ultimate test.

Not afraid exactly – more fear perhaps

of letting your mates down,

or looking a complete arse

at the critical moment.

The vehicle moved out of cover

and into the gauntlet,

sniper alley,

heart thumping,

committed now, no return,

clear of the doors – Go Go Go!

And like automatons the training kicked in

as we fed the broken pieces of plaster board

into the non-recycling bay, bin- liners and all.

So far so good, but complacency killed the cat

the sergeant major had drilled into us,

and we humped the artificial Christmas tree

into garden waste, complete with box

(and a guilty feeling)

whilst at the end of the compound,

the sinister patrol of highly trained

Municipal Refuse Operators berated an innocent

local for putting old clothing in the wrong bin

and pointing menacingly at a warning sign.

Only the analogue TV to go,

and in a moment of rashness, heightened by the thrill

of the moment, I nonchalantly dropped it

by the container marked ‘Car Batteries’

and gave a relaxed salute to the tabarded

sentries as we drove slowly away

wondering if it would so easy next time.

John H Davies

29th January 2011 

Wordfusion

I sometimes wish that I were me,

that she was her or him was he,

and we could try a stint at us

it seems to me a lot of fuss

to them, alternatively they

can think it through another day.

So what if can was really could

and who says shall is only should,

and was it would that simply will

conveniently fit the bill?

The answer is we’ll never know -

don’t say I never told you so.

John H Davies

28th January 2011 

Criminal Records Bureau

She was asked to apply

for a CRB check today

in order to carry out

some extra agency work

despite the fact

she had a CRB check

recently to help out at

after-school-club and

despite the fact

that she’s been a nurse

for twenty years and

has had a few CRB checks

done for that too.

Apparently not all

CRB checks are the same.

John H Davies

27^th November 2011 

People You Meet in Pubs - Part 1

Rousing early he crossed the car park

from his bungalow and cooked full

English breakfasts for all the residents.

(He was probably more proud of this

than all his considerable achievements)

Then home again to return at two,

just as the lunchtime crowd were leaving,

when he would pour his first whisky

and a little water, and smile at me

in a conspiratorial way, and we passed

the afternoon in a cloud of tobacco

and congenial inanities and profanities.

I didn’t notice the artificial mop

or chunky gold bracelet, and became

attuned to the slightly slurred delivery.

He never got to retire in the Florida Condo,

but I can still see him, whenever I drive past

crossing the car park, with a glint in his eye.

John H Davies

26th January 2011 

H2O 2011

With time on his hands he cracked

the screw top of the plastic bottle

of boutique mineral water and read

the label explaining how rainfall

from five thousand years ago had been

gently filtered through layers of mineral

enriched bedrock and captured for our

pleasure. It concluded with a caution:

USE BY NEXT APRIL

John H Davies

25th January 2011 

Under the Stairs

There was a cupboard

under the stairs

in our house.

The door had a

handle but no

lock and was

just my height

with a sloping top.

In it were kept

all the things

my mother wanted

out of site,

like the Hoover

and an ancient

polishing machine

and a set

of carpet bowls.

There was light

switch if you could

find it behind

all the coats,

and it made a good

hiding place,

although I was

wary of groping

too far towards

the sharp end.

And occasionally

she would empty

everything into the

hall to see what

was there,

before putting it

all back in exactly

the same place.

I guess everybody

has a cupboard

under the stairs.

John H Davies

24th January 2011 

Quartet Envoy

Sharp suit hangs comfortably on

lithesome frame and the bronzed and

winning smile that beguiled millions of 

gullible housewives beams out more

vacant sentiment with that

familiar,

casual, (but don’t be fooled)

practised delivery with the usual

relaxed demeanour. But not even this

polished passion can camouflage

hollow words. No so called

solid conviction can fill an

empty apology, regardless of how

defiant the regret or how

self-satisfied the decisions. But substitute

gung-ho bravado with

cavalier conspiracy to fully interpret the

lightweight platitudes of one who’s

lone voice is the

only voice he hears playing to the

shell-shocked gallery of

fractured lives.

John H Davies

23^rd January 2011