Follower

It wasn't my fault, Officer!

It was the crowd what done it!

Whistler's Mother

A poem from 2016

To view a picture of the painting which inspired this poem, PLEASE CLICK HERE

When you first heard the words

“Mom, I want to paint you”

Were you flattered?

Did you wonder, “who wants to look at a painting of an old woman?”

Do you think, “I bet that young blonde turned him down again”

Was that your favourite chair?

How comfortable was it

Sitting there

For hours on end

Did you fidget?

Did your old bones ache?

How about your bladder?

Did you keep needing a wee?

Was it boring?

Staring ahead

No TV to distract you

You couldn't even pick up your knitting

Was it cold?

Or was there a fire?

Was that your normal dress?

Did you wear it all the time?

Did you once wear it at a funeral?

Was it once the fashion?

That painting next to you

Did your son paint that?

Did he hang his work up around the house?

Did you like it?

Did it brighten up the grey walls?

Did you often look at it?

Or did it become so much a part of normality that you only noticed it when wiping off the dust?

What was behind that curtain?

A window, I suppose

What did it look out on?

A garden?

A hillside?

A street with children walking by

Chattering

Or shouting, “old Ma Whistler!”

Or singing some silly rhyme

Popular at the time?

Did you think, “I'm going to be famous?”

Did you like the outcome?

Did he catch your best side?

Tuscan Kale

A poem from 2016

Dancing white butterflies

Whispering on the wind

Pretty display to make the heart merry

But they laid their eggs on my Tuscan Kale

And when I came back off holiday

Green caterpillars had eaten their fill

Holey leaves their greeting

So days on end I checked and squashed

Till I'd killed the little blighters

Living Sacrifice

A poem from 2016

Devalued currency

Soiled goods

A fallen angel

That little innocence

Lost

Morphed

To a tattered and torn life

Like Humpty Dumpty

Waiting for the King's men

Knights in shining armour

For love without pain

Without gain

A healing wind

A hope coming

To steal away the shame

To cut yourself

And bleed away

Another victim slain

A living sacrifice

Under the knife

I am so confused

It's all my fault

That I was sent away

Sweet Victory!

A poem from October 2016

His people think they won

Censorship

Stolen by a killer clown

Open the borders and apologise

She's a criminal

Conspiring to keep you dumb

Just slightly out of touch

I was happy to annihilate the enemy

The wife kicked me out and I slept on a bench

We beat tyranny

We cast out fear

We played by the rules

We are pretty funny

We prefer chocolate

We are the educated voters

Sweet victory!

Happy

A poem from 1990

I would be happy

to die

in a nice way -

in my sleep?

Without pain.

The tears could be wiped away from my heart.

Overthinking

A poem of 2016

Overthinking

Analysing to the nth degree

Leading down the path to stagnation

If I ever get on the path

Constantly rethinking

écoute et répète

Incessantly

Excessively

But nothing changes in the thought

Between the third time and the tenth

Stagnation, catastrophization

Huge little obstacle, poses an insoluble problem

This is not a flight I fancy

I must wait a while

Return

And overthink some more