Farewell

She gave me

a second hand copy

of Love in the Time

of Cholera

and I asked her

to water the flowers

on her birthday.

John H Davies

30th June 2011

Sea Breeze

As I walked along the tree lined green lane

in the early evening, the sound of wind

gently pulsing through unseen branches overhead

reminded me of waves rolling over a shingle beach,

though I was nowhere near the sea.

John H Davies

29th June 2011

Haircut

She cut my hair

with the confidence

of one who’d

been doing it

for years,

but it didn’t

improve my headache,

or hers.

John H Davies

28th June 2011

Honey Trap

They came looking for their queen

and couldn’t escape,

these bees,

scattered on the window sill

in random stillness,

like upturned turtles;

becalmed,

unhummed,

expollinated

spider fodder.

John H Davies

27th June 2011

Late evening summer ride

A familiar shadow follows alongside.

I know it is me, because the

shirt is vibrating in the wind

and white noise fills the ears

and insects smack against cheeks

and smells of summer vegetation

and wood smoke and petrol

and burnt oil against the exhaust,

garnish the machine gun chatter

of the single eighty four millimetre

bore and ninety millimetre stroke

firing at every lamp post,

and for a brief moment man, machine

and road are phased in perfect rhythm.

John H Davies

26th June 2011

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)

▶️Watch me recite this poem

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

▶️Watch me recite this poem

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

▶️Watch me recite this poem

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

Royal Ascot

They seemed excited
to be driving south
for the final day,
the dressing up, the atmosphere.

I’d felt that way too,
one summer,
because I knew
she felt important
at that kind of thing;
hobnobbing,
showing off her Burberry,
though we were still
on the outside of the fun,
wandering around
our virtual enclosure.

And I knew
it wasn’t enough
to queue for a pint
of warm Pimms.

It would never be enough.


John H Davies
18th VI 2011

A Headmasters Prayer

New boys sat on the front row
beneath the headmaster's pew,
humbly beseeching polished brogues
as he lightened our darkness.

The author of peace
and lover of concord, he shepherded
our erring and straying through
Kings and Queens like lost sheep.

Woe betide the boy who fell
into sin or ran into any kind
of off-side trap or leg before,
according to his governance.

And day by day he brought us
safely to the beginning of our humble
assaults on childhood amidst a peace
which only now I understand.


John H Davies
17th VI 2011

The Party

“Come in come in,” a kiss, a hug – “have you lost weight?
You must meet Angel, oh and Rachel’s partner Brian”
(aside in hushed conspiratorial tones, for Rachel died last month)
and in I wade with good intention: “Sorry to hear about your loss,
were you together long?”
“Twenty years on and off, mostly off. A free spirit was Rachel.
She left me actually. The magic had gone, we hoped it might return.”
“No chance!” said Angel, dragging on a roll-up from the peeling bench
“I give ‘em three months and I’m off.”

Half familiar strangers loiter with vacant smiles
and piles of vol au vents on paper plates
and expectant looks towards a next door room
in order to avoid that ever awkward introduction.

“And she’s the one that used to be the catwalk model,”
which might explain the invisible barrier
across which no-one dares to tread despite her friendly smile
and charming kids and mundane talk of physios and other normal things.

I’m John as well! That’ll make things easy. Actually
they call me Bonkers John and I’ll tell you all about myself
for the next half hour provided that you stand and smile and prompt
and feel relieved as folks will think you’re quite the socialite –
Look! Someone wants to talk to you...
except that Bonkers John will talk to anyone.

And from this island sanctuary I leap to Bill
who looks kind and friendly and not too taxing
and finds it spooky that I’ve just read Hardy too
which means I’ll probably also like to hear of post cards
and canals and laying hedges. What are the chances
of us two meeting here of all places?

The night draws on and sounds of voices mingle
with the dim but friendly lights and when I’m happy
that my host and those I’ve met are so absorbed in feeble etiquette
they wouldn’t miss my paltry contribution, I slip the latch
and hope no-one will catch me in the silent act of cowardice.

John H Davies
16th June 2011

Irony Am Tisch

‘We only eat when seated at table,’
he explained, refusing my offer
of an ice-cream in down town Minden.

And some days later
he disappeared, and some said
his girlfriend had bumped her head
on the dining room table

and died.
Just like that.


John H Davies
15th June 2011

Bard of the Black Country

I salute you
John Sparry:
historian, raconteur,
skilled exponent
of the vibraphone,
wearer of strange
headgear,
residing above
your second hand
bookshop next to
the chippy
in Wall Heath.
Long may you
make us smile.

John H Davies
14th June 2011

Birth

She had the child at home
with only the midwife in attendance
and was relieved
that it cried this time.

Although the noise
faded with the years,
until neither she
nor the boy
were conscious of the silence
that had developed.

And it was only
when she began
to lose her hearing,
that she thought about
the little voice again.


John H Davies
13th June 2011

▶️Watch me recite this poem

Postponement

As the anaesthetic began to take effect

her last thought was how this would be

a good way to go

and later confided a feeling of disappointment

when she woke up and found herself

in the recovery room.

John H Davies

12th June 2011 

Automobile

Sitting in a metal box
breathing in intoxicating air
hurtling from here to there
at breakneck speed -
mostly getting nowhere.

We haven’t come
particularly far
since man’s ascent
from sea to land
from land to tree,
and finally to stand.

Even though
he’s mastered air,
and even dared
to broach the planet’s
mantle fair
in search of new horizons.

Evolved till precious life itself
can be prolonged.
Unlimited ambition
which unfettered, strives
for goals that until recently
would seem like heresy
to lesser souls.

As patiently
they contemplate
the meek acceptance
of their fate
that’s hardly fitting
hardly fair, breathing in
intoxicating air
whilst humbly
sitting in a metal box.


11th VI 2011