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)

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

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

14^th 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 

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

Giving

You said it is easier to give,

if you have something to give,

when in truth most people

find it harder

to part with what they have

when they have it.

Which is why you are not

like most people.

John H Davies

10th June 2011 

They come in threes

I distinctly saw them

in my peripheral view

but dared not take my eye

off the rolling sea

or my hand from the wheel,

and harnessed to the safety line

I held our course on a beam reach,

and thought what a site

our little ship must have made

to our three mute spectators

looking on from the rocky cliffs

in the teeth of the gale,

and somehow their presence

assured me, though I confess

a feeling of exhilarated relief

as we ran to starboard

and surfed through Puffin Sound,

rounding the island

as the evening sun

set our wet clothes steaming,

and in the calmer water

I asked my old crewman

if he’d seen the figures

regarding us, and after a pause

he explained that no-one

had inhabited the barren rock since

the monastery was abandoned

in the twelfth century,

and as we passed close by

the lighthouse on the mainland

its bell sounded a lonely knell

that broke the awkward pause.

Years later, on land now

I came down

from a snow covered hill

and lunched among the ruins

of an old farmstead,

and in my reverie

sensed something familiar

about me, and recognised

the brooding presence

of three stone pillars;

perhaps they were arranged

in a similar attitude,

but a pervading assurance

returned to me as I resumed

the homeward journey,

and after only a few paces

my phone rang

and you told me there’d been

an accident, and no-one knew

if she was dead or alive,

and all I could see

in my mind’s eye

as I raced back over the mountain

were the lone sentinels,

their sinister scrutiny

charging each pace

delivering me to her

side, hurt but safe.

Unholy trinity,

I hesitate to think

what augers

the next appearance

of the three,

and whether I’ll be ready,

or whether my sun

will be settling

towards the horizon,

and wise men

and shepherds will be

following some other star.

Or is it simply a bit like

waiting for a bus?

You wait all day…

John H Davies

9th VI 2011 

Honeysuckle

Sweetening the

thickly air,

making its play

for the hedgerow stakes;

unnoticed all the year

until this moment,

when it takes a bow

and how!

John H Davies

8th VI 2011 

Tourist Trophy

Goodbye Derek Brien,
farewell Bill Currie and Kevin Morgan,
true gladiators to those of us
who can only guess
how it must feel
to charge down Bray Hill
for the first time;
bounce over Ballaugh Bridge;
fly through Quarry Bends on a drying road;
scream along Sulby Straight at full chat;
glide past Gooseneck;
power up the mountain;
down past the Creg,
and back to Douglas
for a flying lap.

 
And though you’ve rounded
Governor’s Bridge for the last time,
we’ll still be holding up a sign board
as you dice with Guthrie and Dunlop,
Hailwood and McIntyre,
stopping only to collect a replica
from the Deemster, each time
you pass the Grandstand.


John H Davies
7th June 2011

Pitching it up

I always think of him
on this day;
a young subaltern
fresh from school,
with a lively off-break
soon to lose its shape
by a hedge near Caen.

Blown up
by an unseen shell,
though he’s quick
to point out
that he was
facing the enemy
at the time.


John H Davies
6th June 2011

Half Way

Somehow, reaching the
half way marker
wasn’t quite enough,
and he continued
a few more paces
before allowing himself
to think he was
on the homeward stretch.


John H Davies
5th VI 2011

Traces

Evolve me,
and I will turn from the sun
and claim the void.

One thought to vent
the sulphurous residue
of late flowering
maturity.

Retreat me,
and see the shadow
creep across unequal surfaces
and stall to time.


John H Davies
4th VI 2011

Mortality

The keyhole surgery
was a success and his
fears that they might
find something sinister
besides his gall bladder
were unfounded, but
despite this and his
obvious post operative
fatigue he couldn’t sleep
because each time he
closed his eyes he felt
he was going to die.


John H Davies
3rd VI 2011

E.Coli in salad - a scientific view

Lettuce, tomato or cucumber?
Hard to tell which is the culprit.

Though judging from the public

reaction it seems to be nothing
more than a matter of taste.


John H Davies
2nd VI 2011

Ships In The Night

I called again,
but he was away from his desk.
I’d called this morning
only to be told
he hadn’t come in yet,
and when I called at lunch time,
he was at lunch.

So as sure
as there is a law
somewhere on the statute book,
drafted by a man
of Irish ancestry,
when he calls back, I’ll be
on the other line.


John H Davies
1st June 2011