Archive for September, 2014

Modern Trends

Posted in Lonely, Poetry on September 23, 2014 by belfastdavid

I walk into the supermarket,
pick up the groceries I want,
take them to a machine,
pay my money into the machine,
pack my shopping into bags and leave.

I walk into the library,
put my returned books into a machine,
pick up the books I want to borrow,
put them into a machine,
put my library card into the machine,
pick up my books and leave.

There is a trend it seems
towards reducing person to person
contact to a minimum.
So I am grateful this morning
when I go visit my hairdresser.



Posted in Poetry with tags , , on September 14, 2014 by belfastdavid

I sit back,
close my eyes,
free my mind,
reach out my hand
to touch whatever’s there.

Sometimes soft sand upon a beach,
sometimes rippling water of the sea,
sometimes grass growing on a cliff top,
sometimes naked flesh of inner thigh
above a stocking top.

But every now and then
I reach
and nothing’s there.

I search and search.
I need to find
and touch again
familiar things I love –

the mug from which I drink my tea,
a book with well-read pages,
my favourite teddy bear,
your hand.

Rhythm Of Life

Posted in Poetry with tags , , on September 6, 2014 by belfastdavid

“Every ocean” he said
“has a different rhythm”
and I see no reason
to disbelieve him.
Experience tells me this is so.

But you have to listen,
really listen,
listen hard
and listen long,
for while tide and time and season
may alter cadence
the basic beat
remains the same.

So I will aim
to spend my days,
sitting beside the ocean,
sitting silent,
sitting long.

Allow my body
to attune
to the rhythm which is there,
allow that rhythm
to soothe my mind,
to calm my soul.

Time Gone

Posted in Poetry with tags , , on September 1, 2014 by belfastdavid

Browsing through a second-hand bookshop
I come across a novel
by one of my favourite authors,
written back in the 1960s
when he was beginning his career.

It describes a world
much different from today,
yet very familiar to me
and I wonder what happened
to the intervening fifty years.

Fifty years! Bloody hell!
How did that happen?
My father did not even live that long.

I must have been present
through all that time.
So much has happened.
I can pick out highlights
but so much is haze.

The  world has changed around me
and whilst I have adapted
to the new, it seems
I never really noticed
at the time.

Maybe I should pay more attention
or, then again,
maybe not.