Dream

A man raided my parents’ house
He wore brown trousers and a white vest
He looked like Alexei Sayle

The front door sagged open
Like a corpse’s mouth
I yelled for a neighbour’s help

The man ran out
A memory clutched to his chest
I dropped my bag

I had no time to wonder
As the chocolate bells
I’d rescued from the Christmas tree

At the top of the road
(In that late January rain)
Splattered on the pavement

The man and I grappled
His accomplice ran from the door
Neighbours appeared

The robbers were arrested
And my memories were recovered
But after I woke

I knew
I’d never go back
Into my parents’ house again

Writing in the Dark

This is not a chic area of Paris
Outside the night life rumbles
like indigestion. People argue
Outside my window. A motorbike
Roars past. Tyres squeal.

I look at the clock.
It’s a quarter to four.
I’m writing this down in my notebook
In the dark. I hope the writing is
Legible.

In the morning
I see that I have written this poem
Over the top of another one
And so I begin the task of trying
To decipher my own poems.

Read the Sign

The sign quite clearly says
Do not feed the wildfowl bread
It encourages the Canadian Geese
Who bully the ducks and moorhens

The sign quite clearly says
Do not feed the wildfowl bread
As bread encourages the algae
And the build up of toxins in the water

So why are you standing there
With your bin bag of bread
Scattering crumbs to the geese
Like a stupid bird shepherd?

Can’t you read?

St Albans Haiku

I heard a boy say
Look at that duck! The
One with the Egyptian head

Pere Lachaise

Pale yellow and fading green
Acacia leaves tumble like stone birds

A naked woman poses
With uneasy familiarity

The angel-winged cherubs
The bat-winged skulls

The hoarse laughter of crows
Rising into a grey marble sky

Change of Position

I had been standing on her two feet
for some time
when she remarked -
Stand on your own two feet
for once!

On My Head

I had been standing on my head
for two years
before I discovered
that the simple act of jumping to my feet
released the weight of the world
from my shoulders
like a helium-filled balloon