Sunday, 22 June 2014
Thursday, 12 June 2014
My young friend, the creative and talented Louis, gave me a list of words to write into a poem. His words are in bold and this poem is for him...
An Artist In Space
Wrapped in my space suit,
I am a Panda Picasso,
trying to sketch planet earth with my pencil.
So far, I'm doing a pretty good job.
Things look different up here than they do on the map:
Indonesia is a small bird bathing in the sea.
Italy doesn't look like a boot when it's upside down;
it is more like an alligator opening its great jaw.
Scandinavia is a piece of cheese on a fork.
That's pretty funny, I think,
and when I laugh,
my breath rushes past my ears
like a red tiger's roar.
There is no room for a lunchbox up here.
Instead I suck on sugar cubes
like a horse after a race.
Sometimes the whole of space
looks at me and twinkles a question:
- as if I have the answer,
as if I represent all the people who ever lived
and can reply for us all.
Apart from the sugar cubes, and my pencil,
the only things I carry with me are words.
Weightless, unaffected by gravity, and very satisfying,
I nibble on them whenever I'm hungry.
My favourite one today is "flabbergasted".
And so I sing it out into space -
- an answer to the question,
with a million tiny answers inside it
like stars packed into the galaxy's pocket.
Wednesday, 11 June 2014
My young friend, the magical and creative Lottie, gave me a list of words to write into a poem. Her words are the colours of the rainbow and this poem is for her...
LOTTIE LOVES CAKE
Lottie loves cake.
She loves it so much that she eats it all day long.
For breakfast she eats Moon Cake,
silver and round and full of the wonders of her dreams.
For lunch she eats Sky Cake,
big and wide as the clear blue sky,
with puffy clouds of icing on top
and a bird or two for decoration.
For dinner she eats Jungle Cake,
a very exciting cake,
covered with great leafy plants and bright pink flowers.
It is also a very noisy cake,
with tigers growling and parrots squawking.
When her friend, Matilda, comes over for tea,
they play the viola and sing songs about cake
such as "every cloud has some silver icing"
and "there was an old woman who lived in a scone".
They eat Rose Cake together and paint their nails the colour of Roses.
Sometimes, they magic the cake into a real rose.
Then Felix, the dog, runs around in circles
trying to catch the rose with his nose, it smells so good.
Barack, the cat, sits like an emperor,
calm and majestic, and sips milk from a golden bowl.
Lottie asks her brother, Louis, if he would like a piece of Rose Cake
but he prefers to run around chasing Felix
and, anyway, Louis loves ice cream.
Friday, 30 May 2014
Thursday, 22 May 2014
Wednesday, 21 May 2014
Tuesday, 20 May 2014
He leans against the trunk of the winter tree,
holds his cigarette like a Tibetan horn,
and trumpets his breath into the frozen air.
His old life burns, becomes ash,
becomes the snow at his feet.
He is readying himself to return
to the world of buildings and cars
and, most of all, to the world of people,
with their red faces and their smiling eyes.
Sunday, 18 May 2014
Saturday, 17 May 2014
Thursday, 15 May 2014
Saturday, 10 May 2014
The father drives,
distant as a mountain,
silent as a mountain is silent,
rich with the secrets
that sit beside him.
The daughter asks:
Where were you born?
What’s your favourite food?
He answers with facts,
each word a lie.
She hears whispers
from the empty seats:
He was born
on the outskirts of death.
His heart longs
for honeycake at midnight.
She has decided:
she will be a river,
will rush along
through the open fields
like an oracle,
telling everyone her secrets.
They will look
into her clear waters
and see the pebbles
and the stones,
the piles of ash
and the mounds of gold.