Archive for Growing older

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.

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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.

Time Passes Faster

Posted in Poetry with tags on November 10, 2011 by belfastdavid

One morning you wake up,
look at the calendar,
think bloody hell
it’s nearly Christmas,
better get my act together.

Then you think
how did that happen,
how did it creep up so fast,
where has the last year gone
and what did I do with it?

I dig out my diary,
go through it backwards
to check what things
the year contained
and what I have done,

go look in the mirror
to check that I exist,
get out a post-it note
write on it ‘ Your Name is David’
and stick it above my mirror.

Tumbleweed

Posted in Poetry with tags on April 11, 2011 by belfastdavid

My good friend David Tait, who I trust implicitly in all matters poetic, has suggested that the poems I have been writing recently have all been written from well within my comfort zone (I can’t argue with that). He has challenged me to take the risk of trying new things with a view to “moving my work on to the next stage”. His encouragement and support have been a big help in getting me to where I am now so I will take on the challenge – after all what have I got to lose other than I might write some not-so-good poems.

I will be very grateful for your feedback

Tumbleweed

Three bakeries, a butchers, hardware store,
long gone, a path deserted, litter-strewn,
threatening. I imagine tumbleweed.
No, this is not how it was meant to be.

Village pub boarded up since smoking ban,
post office, shop closed too, public transport
going, going, gone; tumbleweed again.
No, this is not how it was meant to be.

Double bed, one side empty; tumbleweed
rolls past a breakfast table set for one
into the corners beneath spiders’ webs.
No, this is not how it was meant to be.

Nor, believe me, what I had intended.

 

A Man thing

Posted in Poetry with tags , on March 31, 2011 by belfastdavid

I look across the sands towards the pier,
wonder if I have time to walk the beach
before the tide comes in. Give it a try,
but soon it is apparent I cannot.
I could walk back and round, decide instead
to clamber up the rocks to prom above.
Seems rational to me.

My doctor,
whilst prescribing pain killers, opines
to do stupid things
at an age
when we should know much better
is, without doubt,
a man thing!