Wonderful Whether

‘I wonder what’s for supper tonight,’ he wondered,

whilst wondering whether it would rain before

he mowed the lawn, or if England would

bowl out Sri Lanka on the first day. He

wondered whether they had enough

stock at work to complete that order,

and was it any wonder  there wasn’t

anything to look forward to on TV

tonight given the rubbish they show

these days, though he would still

sit down at nine as he did every

night, wondering whether any

of this would inspire him to

think of something to post

on the blog before

midnight, or whether

something had to

change…

John H Davies

25th June 2011

Mountain Grass

Be like the mountain grass that bends
when the savage east wind blows;
its passing but a gentle kiss
that will in time
give comfort in repose.

Be like the mountain grass that bends
to the gentle breeze in June
infused with healing warmth;
that is my constant love
about your presence strewn.

Be like the mountain grass that bends
to the travellers weary tread;
cushioning the rocky path
beneath his feet
as he is homeward led.

                  John H Davies
                  24th June 2011 (revised 10th November 2011)

Close by

You will hear me
in the silent moments
between each heart beat.

You will feel me
when the sun gently kisses
the nape of your neck.

You will see me
in empty hedgerows
with the early lambs.


John H Davies
23rd June 2011

Bragging about our dads - IV

My dad works at the bank
and he can get
millions of pounds
whenever he wants –
although it’s
not his money really.
In fact it’s
not really real money,
money you can touch
anyway.
Actually there isn’t
any money at all;
there are things called
futures and options
and packages of debt,
which is what makes it
really interesting,
and apparently
most of it
belongs to all of us
anyway, so that’s good
isn’t it?


John H Davies
22nd June 2011

Pancho

Pancho was from Panama
and spoke disarmingly good English,
but you learned to trust your instinct
in this place

and guard against the plausible ones,
the bonhomie, the friendly air
and just for a moment you were
taken in

until he removed his T-shirt
to reveal a chest carefully
crossed-hatched with welted scars:
a chequer board

by his own hand. A preening display
of self harming bravado that gave light
to the glint in his eye. ‘Game of chess?’
he offered.


John H Davies
21st June 2011

Changeling

The rich dark earth
felt warm
as he sifted it
through searching fingers
before planting
Impatiens, Lobelias
and Begonias
that would in time
give silent voice
to her eternal message
that nothing is wasted;
every atom recycled,
every memory redeployed,
every event
purposed.


John H Davies
20th June 2011

Premature

I feel rather sad
when the climbing rose
sheds its white
heart shaped petals.

So early in the summer
to have peaked
in one fleeting moment,
leaving untidy piles
on the path,
like spent confetti
around a deserted
lych gate.


John H Davies
19th June 2011