Monday, June 17, 2013

Wow! 5 days, 5 poems to catch up!

Mum's Glass Case

Some items you can see
right through, their reason
for being there not
so transparent - the family
of tiny turtles, a group of
splay-legged elephants
with trunks like curved
toothpicks, one elegant
miniature swan. Why
this collection of 
fragile creatures?

There is the tiniest glass
bottle in the world, in this
world of glass and china.
The china has a haughty air
cups bonded with saucers,
strange creatures with less
self-doubt.It is the glass
that lights up the interior
of this glass-fronted, frozen
country, this paradox of
memory and meaninglessness.

Stained Glass

We stood around, he and I, and
our son, with his woman, in their
house. So much light! we exclaimed. 
The architraves are gorgeous! 
What an improvement to the laundry!

One thing remained the same:
the stained glass window in what
was once a cold kitchen,  now
golden with joy, able to let light in.

After thirty uncomfortable years 
growing old separately, this meeting 
a breakthrough: the past transformed 
in our son's renovated home.


Whatever happened to those
windshields that shattered 
hit by a pebble thrown up
by passing car's tyre?

Now, immured behind
superbly protective glass,
I drive among the herds
of small tanks and long
vehicles, in danger only
of being blinded by the water
their tyres fling backwards.


One brand of lens cleaner towelettes
has been replaced by another
much more oily.

I may as well employ an overworked
tea-towel, or even a dust-collecting

Through a glass darkly

Out there the cold
waits to eat you
piece by piece down
to the bone.
The stars are cavorting
with the moon, so they
ignore you. 
Whatever you know
to be true is given a 
second chance.
You can see it out there
distorting the existence
of "up" and "down".
You notice windows
are rarely designed to be
cleaned both sides.
You prefer to turn out
the light, turn your back,
close your eyes.

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