59. Happy Birthday, Jane

Journeying across the globe from
Australia to London frequently, my dear friend
Never fails to stay in touch, for which I am
Eternally grateful.

58. Sailing ship

If, as the theory goes,
the works of Shakespeare can be typed
by monkeys, given infinite time,
perhaps my poetry, prose and silly rhyme
will strike a chord one day,

but there's the rub:
Time, stretched out like a vast, empty horizonless ocean,
now steers his ship in the distance,
a straight unswerving course directly at me.

57. Wolf Hall

Charmed by a charismatic smile
enthralled by enigmatic eyes
we watched this man from nine till ten,
uttered loud collective female sighs,

but last night was the final time
he'll drift across our screens,
so ladies, we have to be content
to see him in our dreams.

56. Rejection

He said he liked my poem
but space was tight
so many new submissions sent
leaving no room for mine,

these words of rejection typed
in hushed tones, a kind message of condolence
reserved for relatives of the dead
to soften the blow, but

spare me the bedside manner please,
I don't need standardised platitudes
to make the news less harsh.  I am man enough
to face the truth: he thought it was crap.

55. Hospital Visit (haiku)

Hospital visits
conversations of silence
where nothing is said

54. Winter Apathy

 An ironing pile squats silently in the corner
of the spare room, and though the door stays shut
I sense its presence daily,
watching, waiting to be fed another skirt, another shirt,
grown fat from winter apathy.

53. Bones

Safely crouched within his cist
perhaps four thousand years have passed above his head
before the digger's jaws decreed
no longer would he rest in peace
no more this soil a place to hide the dead.

Instead, his bones are now exposed
laid bare for all to see.  If he could choose the place himself
is that where it would be?
Under a ceiling, surely not in preference to the skies?
Under the daily scrutiny of many prying eyes?

No, this was once a living man, no exhibit for a show,
so what, he died long years before but surely
he's still owed the same respect we give to those
whose lives will end today?
Keep dignity in dying.  There should be no other way.

52. Strangers and Mazes

At first, the constant questions,
the search to find answers
for trivial information that seemed
of little consequence to us,

often amusing, endearing almost,
gently we teased your first few steps
into a world full of strangers
along a never-ending maze.

51. Toad

Toad on road
Wheels squeal
Soft splat
Toad flat

50. Sixth Decade

A comfortable life:
good friends, good health, nice house and car,
diary filled with films still to be seen,
journeys to be made, events to attend,
so why do I slip through this sixth decade
searching for something unknown?

49. Telephone Call

Just after eight a.m
but as always my room packed with pupils:
those forced to catch the early bus
and those who always came to get the craic.

Amid their noise, the telephone rang clear,
unusual to be phoned so early in the day,
I called for hush but no one heard
so lifted the receiver anyway,

then listened to the words in disbelief,
the news conveyed - too terrible to bear -
while in this room of laughter, warmth and fun,
a young life had just ended
out in the snow, somewhere.

48. Broken Promises

Another week, another pledge to stay in touch with those
whose lives, at times have touched my own,
but routine schedules set the pace and often friendships
firmly sown are put on hold.  If truth be told
perhaps it's fear that keeps me back
or do I lack the will to start again with friends now lost?
Increasing age hints at what eventually may come
and not to act may prove the greater cost.

47. With apologies to Larkin

What do they think they're doing, the old fools
in their quest to stay young? Do they somehow suppose
that the dye in their hair and botoxed brows look cool
or Pilates will prevent them pissing themselves? Or if they choose
they can stay up all night on Viagra?
Do they really think there has been no change
and they'll always sail through life living the dreaming?
If they can, and they do, it's strange,
why aren't WE screaming!

46. Valentine 2

The shops were awash with soft satin hearts
and roses in all shades of red
but ladies, surely you know this by now,
this old trick will lead you to bed.

45. Valentine

Another morning: let dog out,
had porridge, opened blinds,
all daily routines needing no thought,
but then I heard the robin sing
enticing those images I try to keep buried
right back to the surface.
Will I ever be rid of those final scenes
or must they continue to haunt me forever?

44. Human Cruelty

Burned alive as the world looked on,
his photo stared up and held our gaze.

The next day he would burn again
as we stared at the blaze from our fires.

43. City Saturday

Club doors closed, coat upturned against
a biting wind, balancing against a wall
to avoid someone else's vomit

Bins from the Chippy, now dark and shuttered
are raided by seagulls, empty packages
strewn around the litter ridden streets

Passing sirens wail yet cannot compete
with the sound of Hard Rock in Flat 12
while down blow an argument festers and waits

In a row of run down houses, a door briefly opens
for an ancient scruffy mongrel grateful for
these few moments to walk through his own shit

Through walls paper thin, the creaking and squeaking
as Buckfast fuelled boyfriend thrusts into his woman
who lies in her silence but longs to say no.

42. Inverness Limerick

Inverness is a city to treasure
with spectacular views beyond measure
Eden Court is the best
overlooking the Ness
to spend hours of pleasure at leisure.

41. A Mature Marriage

A mature marriage:
hard to remember a time
when it was not so

years stretch out like elastic
we danced many steps along the way,
now memories fade like ghostly shadows,

the scented roses you once gave
have since grown thorns, their fragile petals
crumbled into dust,

the same moon that reflected our dreams
is long dead
now only ice remains.

40. Aunt Tootsie

Dear Aunt Tootsie,
with dyed black hair
and cherry lips
came to tea each Sunday

we ate the sliced white sandwiches
of red tinned salmon (and small white bones)
piled on plates alongside
a brick of Battenburg cake

but best of all when tea was done
Cream Soda poured into tall glasses
and a scoop of Wall's ice cream
was slurped slowly watching 'Songs of Praise'

She made up tales
of naughty girls and wicked boys,
who always suffered for it
in the end

After she'd gone
sometimes I'd ask where was Dave's dad
but tight lipped silence
was always Mum's stock answer

Dear Aunt Tootsie
with dyed black hair and cherry lips
you came to tea on Sundays
and lit up even the dullest afternoon.

39. For an unknown grandchild

My first attempt at a villanelle. This is a nineteen-line poetic form consisting of five tercets followed by a quatrain. There are two refrains and two repeating rhymes, with the first and third line of the first tercet repeated alternately until the last stanza, which includes both repeated lines.  Having written this one it made me appreciate just how wonderful is Dylan Thomas's 'Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night'

Always be kind to your mum and your dad
Temptation will appear with each new day
Strive for a good life, try not to be bad

There will be times when you're angry and mad
Frustration may cause you to lose your way
Always be kind to your mum and your dad

Grave things may happen and you will feel sad
Grief and misfortune may cause you to stray
Strive for a good life, try not to be bad

I wish you compassion, don't be a cad
Achieve equal balance of work and play
Always be kind to your mum and your dad

I wish you a full life, one that has had
Happiness, love, with no reason to stray
Strive for a good life, try not to be bad

My grandchild, enter this world and be glad
And on this Earth a long time may you stay
Always be kind to your mum and your dad
Stive for a good life, try not to be bad.

38. Sun Follows Snow (haiku)

Just when I thought snow
would stay forever, soft sun
smiled shyly today

37. Church Service

Church Service

Well I never, who would have thought it?
Susan 'double barrel' sprawled across the king sized bed,
goosebumps appearing in dawn's early light
and her lipstick no longer bright red.

And who's that beside her?  Surely it can't be,
look a bit closer - all hell will be raised!
What will his wife say, with her sister in Dorset
joining in with the chorus on 'Songs of Praise.'

Wait a minute, she's moving, surfacing slowly
the light through the blinds is making her blink,
shifts her position, stretching and yawning,
when she's fully awake, what's she going to think!

But still very sleepy, her eyes not yet open
little by little she finally stirs,
across the blue duvet her fingers slip downward,
then freeze as they stumble on flesh that's not hers.

Now Susan's bolt upright, her face set in horror
as memories from last night flood over at last,
she'd called in to pick up the church flower rota,
and he was so charming, it happened so fast.

They chose colours together and church decoration,
then she was invited to join him to dine,
events then moved on to matters more pressing,
blame all on the strength of consecrated wine.

36. Wire

Wire in the brain
causes pain

Daggers drawn from eyes
reflect the lies

Splinters round the heart
split love apart

Poison from the mind
kills all that's kind.

35. Yet another poetry workshop exercise!

Janis - with an 's' not a 'c' -
It means indecisive, caring, loyal,
It is the number 4,
It is like honey seeping through warm toast on winter evenings
It is standing beside a horse at the water's edge, synchronised breathing,
It is the memory of past souls entering and leaving my life
It is Mr M, teacher of English who gave inspiration, creativity and all of himself in every lesson taught,
My name is Janis Carol Clark
It means stop thinking, start feeling, don't hesitate, just be.

34. Poetry Recital

The chairs arranged in straight rows
remind me of a recent funeral,
so too, the quiet conversation from those sat waiting
-mainly women- who glance from time to time,
towards the empty lectern.

An opening door heralds in a reverential silence,
one collective burst of clapping triggers the start,
we wait to catch the words like grateful sparrows,
digesting each line, till full, emotions struggle in a tourniquet
yet greedily we hunger still for more.

No thunderous applause conveys our inner feelings,
instead, we offer up appreciative hums
like gentle bees going about their business on a sunny day.
At the end, I file out slowly with the rest to face the bitter winter chill
now kept warm by the flame still burning bright within.

33. My Dog

My dog....
limped into my life when they no longer wanted her in theirs,
those secrets will stay locked behind her eyes forever.

My dog...
covers my hand with fishy kisses from her snake-like tongue
at which I smile and try very hard to seem grateful.

My dog's...
eyes are clouding blue but her gaze cuts straight to my heart,
she lives in a world that is silent,

I wonder if my dog ever thinks about the time before we met
and if she had the choice, would she choose them or me.

32. Poetry

A poem
can convey all
thoughts, feelings, emotions
in just a few lines, in just a
few words.