Come in, it's lovely to see you. Pull up a cushion and stay as long as you like.

Thursday, 29 March 2012

An Apology

There was a fault on the line.
We're sorry for the delay
and for any inconvenience caused
or any offence.
None was meant

We're sorry for that war
50 - 60 years ago
it wasn't our fault but we're sorry anyway
and for any offence or inconvenience.
None was meant

On behalf of anyone who ever did anything
that caused offense or inconvenience,
we are so very sorry

That day it rained when the sun was supposed to shine
and for that spelling mistake,
that wrong turn and that spilt beer
all over your new shirt,
we are all so very sorry
for any offense that was caused or any inconvenience.
None was meant

For that blunt remark and lack of sympathy thereof,
my ignorance of the full facts of the situation notwithstanding,
I would like to apologise for any offense that was caused
and for any inconvenience.
None was meant

For that tramp that spoilt your view
of the nice shop window,
and the surly shop assistant
who just didn't seem to care.
That funny smell on the bus that time
(oh the day was going so well wasn't it),
and for that pothole
and all that bad news on the telly

On behalf of us all
please take care when leaving the train/bus/plane
and on that ladder,
and may we take this opportunity to wish you well
on your journey through life
and once again
to apologise
for any inconvenience that has been caused
and for any offense.

None was meant

Sunday, 25 March 2012

In Me

I wrote this in 1996 but could easily have written it today, although my writing style has changed, grown even. Strange how things change so much yet, fundamantally, can  remain the same.

In me a poet sleeps
In me an artist lies
My soul for inspiration weeps
My heart for true love cries

In me a lover waits
In me a spirit tries
Calmly to find a gate
A way to reach the skies

In me a flower blooms
In me a bird flies free
In me my roots go deep
Like the tallest, strongest tree

Sunday, 18 March 2012

A Mother's Day Letter

Hi Mum

It's mother's day today, thought I would write to you and let you know I am thinking of you. Well, I think of you everyday but today especially.
I wish I was with you so we could have a chat, catch up. You could come and see my flat and have a cuppa, I could take you out but would much rather cook you a meal here and go for a walk later. And read you some of my writing.
I wonder what the 90 year old you would make of the world today, and of your son at 51. A very different world from the one you grew up in, as it is for me too. So much change in such a small timescale. I imagine it would be like visiting another planet. It's all so commercial isn't it, the values and attitudes so different than the one's you knew. Or is it all so different really. On the outside yes for sure.
I wonder what you would make of the internet, of Facebook and Google, and mobile phones? And of a word that is becoming so small and impersonal, where we waste so much, have so much that we don't even notice or appreciate, yet still half the world goes without, where mother's in some countries are so hungry that they tie ropes around their waists to ward off starvation pains so their children can eat? But then you lived through the war so maybe nothing has changed.
You gave a lot too didn't you? Yes, you had more than enough to cope with, but you laughed so much.
I am seeing my children today and their mother (she is a good mother too just like you), for a meal and some laughs, a lot of them at my expense. I don't mind really. They would love you to be there and join in the fun. They could tell you all about their lives and their friends and all the things that make up their world. And of all the silly things I did and still do! I know you would love to hear it all.
I wonder what you would say to them? And to your other grandchildren, we could go and visit them as well. There would just be so much to do.
I used to love making you laugh, and I made you cry a few times as well didn't I? Never on purpose though. I remember the time I was annoying you while you were washing up and you hit me on the arm with your rubber washing up gloves on. That hurt! And the time we sat and watched Abba win the Eurovision with Waterloo. I went into town the next day and bought you the record, it went to number one. Englebert Humperdink is doing it this year, you liked him didn't you?
And also the time I pulled out in front of a car on my moped and it had to do an emergency stop, and you were at the bus stop and saw it. And you were there waiting when I got home. I shan't repeat what you said to me. And the time I brought the shopping home from town and had eaten the whole packet of chocolate biscuits, so the next time you told me to buy two packets, one for me on the way home so at least one packet would make it.
I also remember all those times you packed me up some sandwiches and I would go off and play for the day, outside, in the fields. It's so sad that children don't play outside anymore. I know you would notice that.
Well look at the time. I have to get on and get ready. The sun is out. Your son has to be off out too. There is so much more to say to you, but I can't seem to find the right words. Another time then.You might not be here in person but in spirit, well, you never left at all did you. Have a great day Mum and spare a thought for all of us, thinking of you. Take care and I will write again soon. I miss you.

With lots of love

Jonathan x

Thursday, 15 March 2012

Flash Poem # 2

An old red door
stands against a white wall
unhinged and unused
Chipped paint and rain warped
Neither an entrance nor an exit
and poses a question.

Can an old red door
leant against a white wall
Warped by the rain and with chipped paint
even be called a door anymore?

Or is it just a piece of old wood
Standing against a white wall
that once had a purpose
And now..................?

Thursday, 8 March 2012

Flash Poem #1

On closer inspection
I could see the flaws.
Nothing too serious of course,
a few lines gone over here and there
and some inconsistencies in the shading.

They reminded me of the time
we wandered around that gallery
oh, where was it now?

And you said 'Look - look
a child could do better that this
it's all squiggles and scribbles!'

'I don't think it's quite as simple as that'
I remembered saying,
partly under my breath and surprising myself.

Cue disapproving look.
Your Paddington hard stare I called it,
never to your face though...