Poems

Poem

I saw a bride splendid in white garments
I saw a woman with one hundred children 
The children plump and firm within her arms,

Poem

Dada has stories from Calcutta
wrapped up in his big belly.
When he belched they would unravel.

Poem

'Why do you run?' I asked the river,
'So fast I can't compete.'
'I run,' the river said, 'because
I have some streams to meet.'

Poem

Spring is baby,
bright, fresh and new,
gurgling with the melting snow,
singing with the first cuckoo.

Poem

At dawn, she climbs over the horizon
to slink between the curtains
and rest her head on your pillow.

Poem

Which can be brushed out long and fine
to lie across a pillow
or bunched and scrunched into an angry
knot of rain before it is undone, 
when long hanks of it hang

Poem

Thomas Farynor, Baker to the King,
Left his oven burning with the firewood nearby.
The embers muttered, the little flames took wing

Poem

The sea lays big glass hands on the sand,
spreading its fingers out as if new
to the shore. It can’t quite believe in it.
It wants to hold on before the glass breaks.