Preacher

The preacher mounts the pulpit, wipes his brow;

He starts with an amusing anecdote;

Then shortly with a dancer's practised steps

He heads for hell, and shyly clears his throat.

With sweeping gaze and gaining confidence

He tells them they're all damned and dead inside.

Augustine watches, proud, smiling in stone;

The sinners stare: there is no place to hide.

Outside the violent air cuts through the skin

As if to catch a glimpse of soul within.

The leaves are rustling, murmuring dissent;

Yet winds of guilt rush them off to repent.

The preacher burns with triumph to his core

He knows he's left them weaker than before.

Nicknames

And one word could

Propel me back

Across the years

To foreign lands.

But transitory

Boomerang

I trust myself

To swish right back.

Old embers of

An unreal day

When you would lead

Me up the drive.

The foaming texts

Were fit to burst

A wave about

To break on sand.

But sand will prompt

An hour glass

To mourn the passing

Of old names

We used to spell

In capitals

When we still clung

To unreal gods.

For months I could

Not write your name

Except in ink

Poisoned with hate.

Without realising

What I’d done

I’d forced myself

To love the loss

Of you. You know

My one regret

Was that I could

Not gulp back pride.

Instead I blamed

A demon who

Would wear your name

Pervert your grace.

I don’t deserve

This epithet

I lost it when

I banished you

Like mad King Lear.

You were all that

Turned humble prose

To poetry.

My life will take

A different course

Away from all

We talked about.

The promised end

Will never come

Without you I

Can’t write the lines.

Miscellaneous Sponge

Guilty indulgence after lunch:

A noxious miscellaneous sponge.

Not carrot cake or chocolate fudge

Just lukewarm custard, drifting sludge.

The flavour was a little bland

But to dismiss it out of hand

Was to ignore its easy charm:

Simplicity that could disarm.

Although cupcakes do catch the eye

The stomach’s still unsatisfied.

First bite of brownie is divine

Yet fill the fork a second time

And throat is clogged with chocolate gunge

So choose the miscellaneous sponge!

Submerged like coral on custard seas,

The humble sponge spoke out to me:

“Remember me when I am gone

And languish in the unknown throng

Of undistinguished, dull desserts

That were not best and were not first!”

The sanctimonious sponge was done.

The course of its short life was run.

One final spoonful did the business.

I felt remorse, and begged forgiveness.

Your brief life did not count for much;

You never seemed to be enough.

Surrounded by less boring friends;

No epitaph will mark your end.

You were not great, but you were good;

You lived just like a human should.

Most blessed of the cakes we munch;

God bless you, miscellaneous sponge!

New Year

A midnight vigil at the fireworks.

A squealing New Year’s promise. Hope it’s true.

But each year starts and ends just like the first.

At dreaming dinner each would help to nurse

Delusions; drunk on promises right through

To midnight vigil at the fireworks.

A year’s extension for dream’s deadline. Cursed

Be those that boast they’ll see their fancies through

When each year starts and ends just like the first.

Dying December lavishly will burst.

The sky will shatter. Yet it’s nothing new

This midnight vigil at the fireworks

Drink yourself silly; feels like you've rehearsed

Your stumbling steps; yet still deny it’s true

That each year starts and ends just like the first.

Each second will divide our time on Earth

As sharply as the last. Is each day due

A midnight vigil at the fireworks?

Still- each year starts and ends just like the first.