1. The Return.
2. creative Juices.
3. Restlessness.
4. Night Out.
5. Passing The News.
6. People watching.
7. Leopard Spots.
8. Flawed.
9. Faded Collection.
10.Awaking.
11.No One's Home
12. The Gardener. (The Year Was 1958)
13. Sensing You.
The sweet being
That once was
Has disappeared
Consumed by the metastases
That chew
At his vitals
The face that used to
Reflect the sun
Is now overcast
Death hides carelessly
Behind the light in his eyes
Yet, it’s presence
Taints his breath
And paints his skin sallow
He knows the earth awaits him
©
Copyright
VMM
2004
and so…
She dipped her toes in the water;
it felt good,
addictive even.
Sometimes
it covered her feet;
less often
it lapped around her ankles.
One glorious time
it rose above her knees…
Inspiring
a flow
of creativity
Yet, she knew
she would die
before she drowned…
©
Copyright
VMM
2004
The tip of your finger
Tickles my upturned palm;
I wake, a momentary amnesiac.
The morning stamps
Through my head
Kicking my brain into remembrance.
Your features fall into place,
And a groan escapes my mouth
Before I can restrain it.
I stretch my lips into
A caricature of a smile
And mime ‘good morning’
Dropping my eyelids
Over my disillusion
Before you even notice it’s there.
I love you, you feel secure,
So you should be…
It’s not your fault, I need more
©
Copyright
VMM 2004
Thumb and forefinger
Caress my arm
Tingling pleasantly at first,
A whispered “ what would you like to drink?”
“just a slimline tonic please” I answer.
Thumb and forefinger
Become a vice
Nipping at my flesh in a bruising pinch
Bringing tears to my eyes.
“Bitch, bloody sanctimonious bitch
Trust you to spoil a good night out.”
The drink is slammed down in front of me
And the scent of juniper rises
The look on his face dares me to argue.
I don’t…
My spirit is as bruised as my flesh,
Words of protest freeze on my lips
And unshed tears clog my throat.
Comically a treacherous dewdrop
Hangs from my nose and I dash it away angrily,
From the other side of the table comes
A triumphant laugh…
©
Copyright
VMM
2004
Rheumy eyed
She hears the news
Peaceful in his sleep
She said.
Another of their contemporaries
Gone from their world.
Dead.
She sits and listens
To her neighbour
Struggling to draw breath
So she can finish off the story
Of their friends recent death.
Her companion's
emphysema ridden lungs rattle,
Echoing in her throat
Each utterance a battle
Breathy words dissipate
Between blue lips, they float
Others left unspoken
Half formed and remote…
Alone once more, she weeps
And wonders in vain
When her time will come
Wistfully
She wishes her youth back again.
The silly wish is smothered
As quickly as it came
Reality takes over
Life is no game
Life is for living
Each moment should tell,
There should never be regrets
For a life lived well.
She is content with her memories,
When her life force is extinguished
Her body will die
So she lives for the moment
And wipes a tear from her eye.
©
Copyright
VMM
2004
This one is a strange one
I notice him because
he is cramming a whole pork-pie
into his mouth.
I watch him furtively
smiling inside,
he is so funny…
He is wearing designer sunglasses
and a Joe Bloggs cap.
Another pork-pie vanishes,
then another,
until four have disappeared.
Two family sized packets of crisps
are devoured between great gulps of coke-a-cola;
I look away guiltily
as we make eye contact,
but not before I glimpse a blush begin.
The train is a slow one,
stopping at all stations
between Norwich and Sherringham.
My glance inevitably slides back.
A crisp blue check cotton shirt,
short sleeved,
a brown suede waistcoat??
Grief!! Chocolate biscuits
already half consumed.
Green gabardine trousers,
black loafers…
A bottle of orangeade
is made short work of
followed swiftly by the rest of the biscuits.
Oh lord, please let the train
reach West Runton
before the explosion…
©
Copyright
VMM
2004
.Then, life was simple.
We were just cubs you and I;
our spots still pale and unformed
our paws playful
our night vision full of each other;
all stealth, all delightful, all exciting.
You must have been the first to notice
my spots defining,
my claws showing.
Your vision sharpened
wandered further afield
marked out new territory
sought out more exotic prey,
Whilst your star still sparkled.
The veil took longer
to fall from my love locked eyes
softening and blurring the edges
of your now experienced and well polished spots.
©
copyright
VMM
2005
I think I had spotted
the flaw in your character
long before it manifested itself.
Looking back
it was like seeing
something from the corner of my eye.
It left me uneasy
never quite trusting your
easy foxy ways;
always anxious for the chicks.
©
Copyright
VMM
2005
When I was a child
I collected spiders webs
from the hedgerows in a forked stick,
dripping morning dew, sparkling
like diamonds in the sunlight.
As I grew into a teenager
I slept in my room cocooned
by walls filled with Elvis eyes
adoring me;
and as a young mother,
I would hoard
the smiles and sticky kisses
of my children with pride.
Later in middle age
love became rare and elusive
difficult to hold on to.
Harsh words and heartache
were collected all too easily.
Now in old age I catch
faded memories in a cleft stick
and blow away the dust
from the dried out cobwebs
to see more clearly
the collected storms and teacups,
and I smile wistfully at life’s irony.
©
Copyright
VMM
2005
Some mornings
When I awake I think
It is you who lies beside me.
My heart lurches
At the thought;
Just as I shake off the last
Vestige of sleep
I feel you.
Then reality dawns
And I remember you are dead;
Your essence fades
As though you had never existed
I find myself wishing you back
Then, there is a stirring
From the other side of the bed
And I think, “what is this treachery“
©
Copyright
VMM
2004
Where have you gone?
Your eyes are dull,
empty.
Your body sits in the chair
but you're not there.
Your bony hands
once were strong,
you stare at them
as if they don't belong.
Someone makes a noise...
Your head rears up,
for an instant
our eyes touch...
then yours slide away,
without saying much.
I was always
your friend
You have forgotten,
No longer
comprehend.
I stroke your hand
you snatch it back
as if it burns.
The silence stretches on....
The friend
I once had, has gone.
Copyright
VMM
2003
Golden muscled arms
glistened with sweat
in the heat of the late morning sun,
they rippled with raw strength
and made his task look effortless.
Perspiration soaked and darkened
his blonde curls
flattening them to his handsome head.
He knew he was being watched
of course
and performed accordingly,
stretching and bending
his supple body, then
arms akimbo, lightly touching
snake hips;
feet planted firmly apart,
eyes staring enigmatically
off into some forbidden zone
making him seem mysterious,
he knew he was being admired.
What a pity his brain
didn’t match his magnificent body.
How funny it was to see the roller
carry on as he stopped;
how hilarious to hear his howl of pain
as it flattened his plimsolled foot.
©
Copyright
VMM2005