I Should Be Proud

Missed it - the radio programme that is.
Caught a trailer - Martha Reeves just talking.
I Should Be Proud: black men in black bin bags.
Yes, in the killing fields of Vietnam.

Debate about global warming cools down.
A cliche down, another comes around.
(got to do a few things here - so if you have
some ideas for this bit, do feel free)

Funny, wife being black, doing the ironing.
We were passing comments on the steam iron,
one of the latest sorts it seems. You can
even iron hanging curtains with it. Well,
when questioned on this the answer was "No".

Then the phone went, a black cousin, telling
how an art teacher at a staff meeting
offered a display of, erm, gollywogs.
A mother of two mixed-race adopted kids.

Claiming devil's advocate I wondered
was she trying to provoke honest debate?
Did this parallel using "nigger"?
A burst of steam from the iron left a doubt.

Which is best? A "wog" in the face
or a job application in the bin
with boxes all ticked and satisfied grin?

I'm glad I'm not in a black plastic bag.
Not a dead hunk of flesh from Vietnam.
I don't dream of hugs in Guantanamo,
or wait for that Big Bang in Iraq.

Nice one, Martha.
Be proud.

This man - a hero?

I love what he said.
I love the way he said it.

I'm a coward.
He was brave.
I love the way he walked in water.

sacred heart almighty

the doleful face
fair skin
long almost ringleted hair
combed tache 'n beard
looks not at me
no wonder he doesn't look at me

the palms of the hands
are pierced
but the key is the heart
la pee de la resistance

lurididly bathed in pale pink light
liver brown
circled with barbed wire thorns

this cannot be serious
can it?

walking looking back

light north wind
high cool cloud streaked sky
hedges
fuchsia blackberry honeysuckle
haws rose
hips nettles fertile ground
rats
far off scurrying trailing tails
dead
fresh spilled guts on tar
hedgehog
gentle face curled in peaceful death
rolls of hay
where cocks used to stand
field of leeks
stubble speckled with black flakes of crows
twin brother tractors
tilling scratching soil
telegraph poles
iron gated railings
and the deserted gate lodge
whose estate was this?
fields of greens
browns yellows stretch
looking into the distance
to the Sugar Loaf Mountain
near the end
of the lane the solid dark truck
Motorway Maintenance
chiming with a beat
“Beware this vehicle is reversing”

Un Holy Alliance

Cross of Fingers
Monks of Burma
Aung San Suu Kyi

here
here

and From Our Own Correspondent
gets up close and personal
in a BBC sort of way
here

Just asking...

Is it ever of any value
to say, "I told you so?"

Blue Ribbon

It was dull and gloomy
heading west through Wales.
The last run towards Anglesey
looking down towards the coast
a strip of brilliant sunlit blue
wide and deep enough to swallow thousands
of armies and more rewarding
than blood red streams and pools
of oil and poppies in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Coole Park

It may be Yeats
(but I doubt it)
or the Laurie Lee essays I brought
but Ireland does move me to write
of charred sausages
microwaved colcannon
apple tart and Maud Gonne.
Celebrated Autograph Tree
- more trite bark than bite.

Ne'er a swan of any sort in sight,
the lake is low and peaceful though.
I cast a cool eye on life on death
try to forget the Ford Focus
with leather seats mark you.

Driver pass by.

train of thought

mind
the
gap