Stone circle
Who did decide to raise the stones
to count the passing days
to echo equinox' sigh
and hallow ancient ways?
Who dragged them from their blue high hills
and carved them into shape
to sight the lines across the land
where woods and meadows gape?
Who set their old ancestral rites
within the circle wide?
Who left us stories not to sing
beside each cold fireside?
Who made us buy a ticket now
to walk where phantoms dwell
and fenced off all those living stones
from all that they could tell?
Almost a kiss
You tried to kiss me on Bray beach,
the dark black of the waves rolling
in our ears and the amusement
arcade lights glinting in the sand,
but I pushed you away.
Six years later at my back gate
I would have done anything
to make you stay and try again
but you left for Bath and a life
too full for my regretted refusals.
Dad's Pubs
When I was small, it was the New Inn,
staying till closing time
and then rolling home to eat
cold fish and chips by the light
of the dying coal fire.
The Cherry Tree for lunch from work
before the breathalyser
so he could still drive the van
in the afternoon despite
a pint of Twos.
Then the Duke of Connaught,
helping out a cousin, serving
behind the bar while Mum and I played
darts badly for the cheese and onion
sandwiches at half time.
And finally the Bread and Cheese,
all through my uni years
and onwards past Mum's death.
Ringing them when there was
no answer at home,
getting a lift back when he was
too frail to walk it.
Did they miss him when he died?
Dominoes on Sunday
and crisps with cribbage.
I doubt it as they had other customers
with stories in pint glasses
while I only had
one Dad.
Flights, Issue Nine, June 2023
Flight of the dragonfly 