Archive for February, 2012


Posted in Poetry on February 29, 2012 by belfastdavid

I will never find out
where the path leads
until I walk it.

I sit with my morning tea,
feel my eyes drawn,
not for the first time,
to a picture on my wall.

I slip through the glass
into the picture,
onto the path.

When I finish my tea,
I rise from my chair,
a decision has been made.


Signs of Ageing – No. 302

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , on February 21, 2012 by belfastdavid

Would  you like  to make love
she asks, but enquiringly
rather than insistently.

Do you know I say
just this once
what I’d really,
really like
is a mug of tea.

Sometimes she says
just sometimes
a mug of tea is better.

After Dreaming

Posted in Poetry with tags , , on February 14, 2012 by belfastdavid

I awaken to a darkness,
looking at shadows;
your form materialises,
asleep beside me.

I stretch out my hand,
rest it on your shoulder;
you open your eyes
and I can see you smile.

We hear the seagulls
walk across the roof,
set out along the front
to the café on the pier.

You say I love you.

February can be the longest month

Posted in Poetry with tags , , on February 7, 2012 by belfastdavid

I struggle to make my way into the day,
search for glimmers of a better future,
yet all that emerge are plastic hopes
which will melt before breakfast.

The tree outside my window
receives a visitation of blue tits
seemingly unconcerned
by the presence of a magpie;
not so the blackbirds
in the next tree along,
who eye it warily.

The natural world
has its own rhythms,
as, of course, do I;

slowed down this time of year
by cold and wet and darkness
which tempt me to withdraw,
pull the curtains, hide away.

I recognise this pattern
in the bigger picture
of all my years:

walk through to the bedroom,
open up my curtains,
watch the activity
at my bird-feeder;
Start my day again.

Outside the window whilst at a poetry workshop

Posted in Poetry on February 5, 2012 by belfastdavid

The forecast is for snow
and I guess I wait for it
to begin, which it does,
at first gently,
almost apologetic,

but growing in confidence,
gathering momentum,
until what was tentative
turns into a determined
re-painting of the landscape.

Where the poems are

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , on February 1, 2012 by belfastdavid

There is a long curved pathway
which runs between sanity and madness:
I have walked it many times,


in wrong places
for solutions
to wrong problems;


to walk for ever
until, exhausted,
I came close to death.

Whoever is responsible for miracles

chose that moment
to open up my eyes,
let me see the light,
which lit a different path.

That is where I found the poems.