1 Aug 2017

Poem 8

Late last night

Late last night, after feeding, you gave me this:
a private smile as you lay in my arms, almost asleep, eyes closed.
Your cheeks plumped and the skin around your eyes crinkled.
I could see your empty gums, waiting for teeth.
You were as beautiful to me as a Noh mask or the narrow-eyed lady
in my Japanese print. Come back to me always, daughter.
I will learn to be your mother.

31 Jul 2017

Milnerton beach

Can't go far wrong with Milnerton beach on a warm winter's late afternoon. The nippers were in swimming costumes and loving it.
The beach has changed shape again. Lots of stones, which is unusual. Enough to make that wonderful sound as the waves roll them over. And a steeper drop off than I was comfortable with when I wasn't planning on swimming with the small fry. We had to walk quite far along to find a slower shelving bit.
Quite a lot of rubbish on the beach but nothing really yucky, that you could see anyway...

1 Jul 2017

Poem 7

Mountain dove

I thought her cries would go through me
like other people’s babies’ did grief-stricken, anguished
for the loss of a dummy or a shoe.

Instead it is the fear that goes through me,
the fear of what else my mind can throw at itself,
in these early sleepless days.

Outside, the mountain dove with its blood-red eye
beads at us from the roof, its plumage slate
with spots of snow, then flies away.

1 Jun 2017

Poem 6

All the way through

It is reassuring, somehow, to find I am depressed
in a way that is of a piece with my self.

Like Brighton rock, I am the same stuff, all the way through.

24 May 2017

Six-pack? None-pack!

There's no way I knew what a six-pack was as a 6- or 9-year old. It wasn't a thing in my world. For my children, however, with super heroes swarming around them, and Anaconda waiting in the wings of inappropriateness, six-packs are a thing. My daughter had the closest thing to one in the family for a while.

As all those with small children know, the ability to burst your bubble is in-built, not acquired. Given this, perhaps we shouldn't have been surprised when my son declared that his father had a none-pack, not a six-pack. This clanger was shortly followed by a chorus of "squishy, squishy, squishy" as my son poked various parts of my anatomy.

Good to know how one is viewed.

On a similarly silly note, this blog is a year old...