I turn to wake up

Tags

2014, 7*, authority, breakdown, Carol, determination, doors, dream, Emily, future, heart, Hillside, home, humiliation, identity, innocence, life, managerialism, neglect, power, presumption, pupils, responsibility, sound, streets, teachers, teaching, time, toilet, uniform, waking

the e-mail that clanked dank in my heart
                the report I hadn’t written
                                for so long, for Emily
[her future all depends on it, poor Emily, she is so innocent and so pretty she deserves all the future she can get and You are neglecting her of it with your own languid longevity] but I will

                                NOT be responsible for future lives
                when I am ill from the presumption which doesn’t let me
even crap in private outside my own backdoor pan-in-the-yard
                they have called for me at my front door
                                with the brusqueness of a uniform
                                                with the presumption of amoral (sic)
                                                                even here
                                                the uniform and the outside toilet in my own house:                
                the humiliation could not be more complete so
I pull the hood of my dressing gown over my head
                and sink out of the dream

                                This Will Not Be

                                                I rouse Carol from
                                                                her own dream
                                                and drift somewhat back to …
                                … pupils all around the street
                                                they
                                                should
                                                not be
                                                there but only I
                of all the teachers in my front room
go out to front and tell them –
                command of my righteousness –
                                that they should not be there they should be BEHIND the house
                                                behind the house
                                but they turn languid
                and run round the corner down the street, they know
they don’t have to listen to me and
                I am powerless because
                                I am ill

                                I am so fed up with this
                                                I turn myself to wake up
                                                                I turn to wake up

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

breakdown wormhole: slow enough / to have love
Carol wormhole: St. Mark’s flies flagpole upwards / with the forelegs hanging down obscene / reaching some height blindly to connect / out from the long-stalk tri-separating up- / to-seeded rounds of pod like acacia what / is it called “‘hogweed’ I-don’t-know- / what-it’s-called-but-goats-love-it-and- / it-makes-them-burp-a-lot”
doors & life wormhole: every step I take
dream wormhole: make your rickety / constructs strong with / unbending grids / of attention and wide- / open grates of let
Hillside wormhole: tag cloud poem IX – haiku is awkward / the more that is left in / like uncombed hair
identity wormhole: dear Lucy
managerialism wormhole: ‘let them slide off …’
power wormhole: that comicbookshop … // … in dreams
sound & streets wormhole: while
teaching wormhole: dream I // dream II
time wormhole: this time

 

tag cloud poem IX – haiku is awkward / the more that is left in / like uncombed hair

Tags

2015, bay window, Crowborough, economics, emptiness, eyes, haiku, hair, hands, Have, hedge, Herbert Road, hills, Hillside, history, horizon, hotel, house, humanity, life, London, rooftops, Shooters Hill, sight, society, tag cloud poem, terrace, Thames, time

                                                     haiku   is awkward

   the more that is left in

     like uncombed  hair

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                            the hands that Have   are

 
                                                    small and gnarly that hedge a                
                                                        fund and close their eyes;

 
                                                my sight formed along
                                          rooflines of Herbert Road edged
                                                           above the distant hills

 
                                beyond the river
from terraced steppes along the
     declining line of

 
                                                      Shooters Hill; but then

                  my sights folded inwards at

                                                                   Hillside, pages of

 
                                                              turned history that had

                                lost its own horizon, from

                                                                                                            hotel to house in

 
                              the bay windows of
                              London where humanity
                                                                              is stuck in all time

 

‘aitches’ touch on quite a few boat-ties to my past: ‘Herbert Road’ was the local shopping high street where I lived in London until I was 19; it is in Plumstead which spreads south over the crest of ‘Shooters Hill’ and merges into Woolwich down to the river Thames; ‘Hillside’ is one of a little cluster of houses where I settled to raise a family and grow a career in Crowborough in the late 1980s – that same 80s that, mean-and-all-the-while, Thatcher was creaking open that casket (‘can’t read the label – “–ora’s Box”?’) which left me alien to my own background and lost in my own riverbank mist, save for the miraculous peek of haiku and the deadened gaze of bay window …

`haven’t published a tag cloud poem in a while: they’re made up of the larger tags of my work built up over the years – this one emerged into a series of haiku[esque] pieces of work – almost inevitably; this one was particularly difficult to form, the tag-words didn’t run off each other smoothly – I must admit I left a few words out; the green links are to those respective tags, the different sized fonts determined by the number of ‘topics’ that pertain to that tab … nerk!

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

Crowborough wormhole: portrait: / two pigeons
economics wormhole: 1959
emptiness wormhole: need
eyes wormhole: bavardage
haiku[esque] wormhole: ‘green plum jam on rye …’
hair wormhole: impressionism
hands & humanity wormhole: Doctor Strange I – the trashcan tilted the better to see now the street
Have wormhole: Nostalgia for Samsara – poewieview #16
hedge wormhole: where the goblins leered – poewieview #14
Herbert Road wormhole: bottom of Herbert Road to the / foot of Eglinton Hill dream
hills wormhole: life [‘n’ death] / legerdemain – poewieview #15
Hillside wormhole: Charlotte
history & horizon wormhole: a theremin note – poewieview #21
hotel wormhole: Hotel Room, 1931
house wormhole: first Spring storm
life & society wormhole: no one – poewieview #24
London & rooftops & Thames wormhole: up on the hill
tag cloud poem wormhole: tag cloud poem VIII – growth
time wormhole: 1968

 

Charlotte

Tags

1996, 3*, Charlotte, Hillside, portrait, speech

 

 

…

                                              Charlotte

                      no more
                      no one was dead

                      he jumped … off
                      the table and the policeman

                      went to work
                      now the bank can open

 

                      he can’t fit in

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

Charlotte & Hillside wormhole: Dottie
speech wormhole: Jonathon

 

Dottie

Tags

1996, 4*, breathing, Charlotte, Hillside, portrait

 

 

 

                           Dottie

                           breathing
                           through her mouth

                           head
                           bent from the shoulders

                           the last
                           piece of fluff
                           from her toe
                           was cleaned
                           then –

                           thump! –

                           the foot
                           thwacked
                           on the floor

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

breathing wormhole: this time
Charlotte wormhole: Charlotte
Hillside wormhole: Jonathon

 

Jonathon

Tags

1996, 4*, green, Hillside, Jon, portrait, red, speech, yellow

 

 

 

                                              Jonathon

                      crouched over the

                      red green and
                      yellow Brio

                      scattered about
                      the floor

                      screeches

                      to his brother
                      in the other

                      room “No
                      you cannot use my

                      walkie-talkie!”

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

green & red wormhole: weekend
Hillside wormhole: Charlotte
Jon wormhole: Charlotte
yellow wormhole: eldorado

 

Charlotte

Tags

1995, 4*, Charlotte, Hillside, Jon, portrait, speech, stairs

 

 

 

                                   Charlotte

                     a helium-
                     expelled

          just six-year-old

                                   grunt

                     half-way up the
                     stairs with her

          best twang, “I’m – ungh –

                     just trying to bring Jonny
                     upstairs
                     he’s broken his mouth.”

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

Charlotte & Jon wormhole: dream
Hillside wormhole: tired
speech wormhole: “WHOOOOOOOOOP!!!”

 

tired

Tags

'scape, 1995, 4*, bedroom, Hillside, wind, windows

 

 

 

                                tired

                the wind blowing
                the front windows
                but whistling
                at the bedroom door

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

bedroom wormhole: this is not / a poem
Hillside & windows wormhole: ‘through the open window …’
wind wormhole: light blue and grey

 

‘through the open window …’

Tags

'scape, 1993, 4*, bird, hill, Hillside, lorry, open, passing, windows

 

 

 

                      through the open window

                      the bird sings two notes
                      again and again

                      while

                      the lorry drives
                      slowly

                      uphill

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

bird wormhole: comicbook morning
hills wormhole: 60 m.p.h.
Hillside & passing wormhole: ‘the mist high in the sky …’
open & windows wormhole: ‘white blossom …’

 

‘the mist high in the sky …’

Tags

'scape, 1995, 4*, branches, cars, grey, Hillside, mist, passing, red, sky, trees, yellow

 

 

 

                the mist high in the sky

                                yellow among the
                                brown branches

                grey Escort, dark grey Clio, red Escort

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

cars wormhole: 60 m.p.h.
grey & Hillside wormhole: light blue and grey
mist & sky wormhole: ‘mint toothpaste …’
passing wormhole: ‘a most intense blue …’
red & trees wormhole: twilight
yellow wormhole: autumn

 

light blue and grey

Tags

'scape, 1994, 6*, birds, blue, clouds, grey, Hillside, rain, sky, telephone lines, wind, windows

 

 

 

                      light blue and grey

                                              through a sky
                                finished
                                raining

                      now and in
                      front of which thrum
            two telephone
            lines

            in the wind

                      at times

                      fly two
            birds one

                                              straight
                      past the clouds
                                the other
                                curling between
            them and the wires

                      although
                      miles away

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

birds wormhole: all
blue sky & grey & sky wormhole: twilight
clouds wormhole: ‘light blue …’
Hillside wormhole: electric guitar
rain wormhole: the class
wind wormhole: ‘at the end of the day …’
windows wormhole: sun through / the hedge