Archive for London poem

Brother

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 24, 2008 by dc

I’ll pretend to be your brother,
Squeeze your arm affectionately,
Dumbfound the stalkers with sick jokes
And laugh about nothing in French.

We’ll get rid of the Jesus freaks
Talking about the death of our mother
And how you’ve found out you’re infertile,
We’ll escape the crowds and start whispers.

You’ll find solace in my wide brown eyes
And tell me you’ve had sex with strangers,
You’ll say you’re addicted to vodka
And stare till your face starts to slide.

I will watch you float round the room,
A breath of fresh air through the cigarette smoke,
I will sit on a sofa believing my thoughts
And shape them all into routines.

As motion staggers and night becomes dawn
I will say my goodbyes and search for your gaze,
I will hunt round the room till I see your illusions
And finally pinpoint the actress in you.

Proud Old Man

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on July 13, 2008 by dc

Your baby granddaughter
Smells of freshly baked scones,
You look like a tree trunk,
Your eyes are like oak knots.

Skin like tanned leather
With a wisdom only age can bring,
There’s a tremble as you hold her,
It’s an ancient way to soothe.

Your baby granddaughter is happy
Staring at anything,
The yellow-white lights,
A beggar’s messy beard,

The lines of a subway map,
A train alive with eyes,
The old and weathered face you gurn,
Where wrinkled laughter lies.

Defining Us

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on July 10, 2008 by dc

We are the half stitched seams,
The slightly off splendour,
A subway map in a wallet,
The oil in the eye of a puddle.

We are the half sung screams,
The fantasies of dullards,
A joke inside a hospital,
A spark that wants to flame

And we are the half dry streams
Running from a river,
An iron roof in a storm,
The sand by a museum jar.