it’s hard to single
heroes out
they all look much
the same to us
black and white
formal dress
Marxist maybe
Chaplinesque
they tramp the end
of the world
cock their heads
as if they heard
something muffled
on the wind
spectators chuckle
when they spin
dads take their turn
while mothers fish
to bear the egg
and brave the lash
with dignity
that moves
en masse

I’m looking over my shoulder,
Both prepared and unprepared
To see your face in the crowd
Staring at me
As if I’m the only one there.

I’m looking in my rearview mirror
For your truck
Following every turn I take
Trying to figure out where I’m going

I’m looking out my bedroom window
Finding the shadows
Watching for any signs of movement
Listening for any sounds

You drive my senses senseless,
So much so that I wish it endless.

You entrap my vision, so I seek only you,
That gentle face seems too good to be true.

But that glare that stems from those beautiful eyes,
Ensures the thought that you are only mine.

Almost as much as when you utter the words,
The words I had longed for, the ones I have heard

Your endearing voice fully drowns the sound,
Of all others that appear to surround.

So much so that to hear another,
Is to silence the sound we have made for each other.

as does yours truly,
whose ecological ethos
goes out the window
into the cold freezing iceland
prompting the following balderdash.

Upon the advent of an unexpected inspection
slated for tomorrow January 24th, 2025
myself and the missus,
(the latter bedridden
due to feeling physically unwell)
scrambled like the dickens (Charles to you)
to play merry maid to buckle down
and break a sweat sweeping and vacuuming,
plus applying the BISSELL
PROHEAT PETTURBO RUG CLEANER.

My ten-year-old drops in on me often.
This time he wants to go to the toy section.

He's drawn to robot heroes that transform,
and the crazy array of action figures
all just hanging there ready to be wanted.

We don't purchase any. We're just here to look.
I admire his discipline not to bring any home.

My ten-year-old has a touch of arthritis these days,
and eyes that need an assist to admire all the features
still firing his nostalgia, tucked away within
brightly colored cardboard and plastic.

If you were an artwork, what would you be,
a Van Gogh flower, bought by bourgeoisie?
A fictional character on kitchen sink stage,
as a woman wears shift, the Dublin outrage.

Perhaps an engraved print on sheet of copper,
a genie uncorked, from bottle no stopper.
As they pour out truths, spirits will rise,
examine the colours, all artists tell lies.

I walked into the woods today, just to clear my mind,
Searching for tranquillity or whatever I might find.
I navigated through the trees beside a rushing brook,
I couldn't find enlightenment, so I took another look.
The sights and sounds of nature were all there to behold,
Still no sign of contentment, so forward on I strolled.
I felt disappointed, as I left the woods today,
A waste of time and effort, I thought along the way.

I have observed,
A building,
Being constructed.
I saw the demolition,
Of the previous structure.
I viewed the smoothing out,
Of the soil,
On which the foundations were laid.

The strength,
Upon which a building arises,
Begins with the cement,
Being poured,
And then hardened.
On that firm base,
The timber outline emerges.

awaken the lady
wake up the lad
the housemaid
the nephew
the dear granddad

run to the river
down past the briar
fly with a bucket
the house is afire

the table, the chair
the bed and its frame
the dresser and mirror
have all gone aflame

the candle which sat
on the edge of the rail
tipped over and splattered
when Dog caught his tail

under the rocker
there on the porch
it only took seconds
to spread like a torch

I miss you
Until I remember
How your voice
Rattles my eardrums

I miss you
Until I remember
How the floor shakes
When you bound towards me

I miss you
Until I remember
How the holes in my wall
Came from your fist

I miss you
Until I remember
How you call me crazy
And psycho and weak

I miss you
Until I remember
How you said
I didn’t try hard enough

And I miss you
When I remember
This tattoo on my finger
Meant forever.