Saturday, October 30, 2010

Summer's End

The time of sunlight is now past
and shadows lengthen every day:
you knew the bounty could not last
and darkness would demand its pay.

Gather the fallen apples from the ground,
squeeze out the sunlight trapped within their flesh,
hang some from the rafters and dance around
and try to bite the few that still are fresh.

Sit at midnight before a glass
and hope the one that spills first blood
will come and roll you in the grass,
before the snow lies on the wood.

When the veil between the worlds has lifted
cut good joints from a newly slaughtered beast:
see spirits rise where the smoke has drifted
from bon-fires burning the bones of the feast.

In the greyness of the morning
pick from the ash your cooling stones,
read the future that is dawning
for young virgins or aged crones.

When the children come knocking at your door
treat them with kindness and bestow your gift:
teach them the meaning of November’s lore
before their springtime blossoms fall and drift.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

The Sadness of the House

The contents accumulate,
an aggregation of desires,
chosen with economic care
and young hopes of future ease,
only to be discarded
sacrificed on fashion’s altar.

TV tubes morph into flat screens,
their ganglia of wires are pruned
and the once loved leather lounges
are deemed unfashionable,
despised, they no longer please,
their kindly embraces now spurned.

Evidence is erased by paint
of youthful progeny and marks.
No toys litter the dust-free floor,
no boyfriends clamour at the door,
just the third dog waiting for
a visit by the family throng.

Juicers, used once, electric fans,
artificial flowers, pans,
huddle in the attic gloom,
their ruminations scarce disturbed
by thermal insulation
or new air-conditioning ducts.

Below, the beds no longer creak
with joint or lone furtive desire,
but still bear the weight of sleep
waiting their turn for renewal
of duvets or mattresses
or that last journey to the dump.

When the front door slams one last time,
the empty rooms can exhale 
the final breath of occupation,
and listen to the world outside
for the next engine on the drive
to relieve the sadness of the house.