Poem – Page 4 – Achilles & Aristotle

An Ordinary Day to Remember

Scooting around
Nothing profound
Passing the day
Having a play
Boy and his dad
Momentarily sad
I’m in my prime
His smile is sublime
But time is finite
One day will be twilight
And then away
So remember this day.

I was talking of death with my mother-in-law this week. A relative is very ill and her cohort is slowly dying around her. She seemed a bit troubled, so we talked. I think she wants to talk about death sometimes but not many people want that conversation.

I’m ok with it though. I feel I’ve created my two time capsules nurturing two beautiful children and left them some thoughts and ideas with this blog. Let’s not tempt fate, but if a bus smashed into me tomorrow I’d have a second of pique – b@llocks – and then rest.

I’m happy with who I am and what I’ve done. Opening an improving mortgage statement letter, booking a college reunion, scooting about and making pizzas – a humdrum day. But what’s not to like. Life is good – and both quite long and quite short. So make sure to enjoy the ordinary days, I say.

Life, Poetry

Jubilee Camping

Jubilee camp
Periodically damp
Some sun
Decent fun
Well fed
And some early beds
Good group
A sizeable troupe
The final night
Clear and bright
By the fire side
A beacon spied
And a firework spray
At the end of the day
But this is Devon
And so opened the Heavens
A pouring morning
Puddles forming
Packing up completely wet
Always was a likely bet
Home James
Back to the Thames
Unloading
Unfolding
Hanging
Draping
Of sodden stuff
That’s quite enough
So a glass of red
And an early bed
A good time it’s been
God save the Queen
But let’s not do it again
Until she’s 110.

Children, Odysseus, Poetry

Sun’s Out

Sun’s out
Scooting about
What better way
To spend the day
Than chatting and laughing
With my adorable offspring

It doesn’t take much to make a great day. Some sunshine and a leisurely chore or two in which to engage the kids. Fetching a package justifies a scoot, an ice pop and a donut. Life is sweet.

Life, Odysseus, Poetry

Terse Verse

If music be the food of love
Is poetry a bowlful of life?

A question crossed my mind the other day – do I only spontaneously write poetry when I’m cross about something? I’m sure I’ve written happy poems, but the impulse to bash out some verse seems to come more often than not through irritation, stress or annoyance. And often banal and mundane at that – from flat tyres to ineffective dishwasher tablets. Take this one:

Duzzit doesn’t

Rare to see such disinformation
In a modern formulation
Dishwasher tablets are all the same?
But Duzzit is to blame
No discernible cleaning
A film all over my pots
Unilever and P&G may be pricey
But their brands leave no spots.

This set me thinking. I read a few months back that musicians live longer, poets die sooner. Is it a bit like comedians? Making people laugh is – by all accounts – a sad person’s trade.

Perhaps it varies from person to person. But, for me, I think poetry comes more often as a venting of steam than a bucolic breeze. Still, better out than in.

Children, Life, Odysseus

April Showers

Rain rain go away
Me and the boy set out to play
Driven back by hoods a dripping
When we should have been a skipping
Two straight weeks of being soaked
Is now getting beyond a joke.

Me and the boy set out for a day trip today. We got as far as the bus stop in a downpour and then couldn’t get on one. The Number 12 was all steamed up and no seats to go.

On the way back up the hill for a consolatory hot chocolate he suggested a step forward – ‘We could make an umbrella out of Lego!’ Necessity is the mother of all invention.