poems

These are four poems written during the last days of my dear wife.I wrote them whilst being with her until the end, caring for her in hospital 24 hours a day, thanks to the compassion of the medical and nursing staff.I felt privileged to be with Edna.The last poem was written after her cremation.

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puppets

Puppets around me rest inside, as words heavy, call me names I brood I blame I throw them away cannot forget, they come back again stand on my way pretending to empower without them I cower their company I regret I become their puppet. One fine day, a puppet goes away I look at the mirror there’s no trace of

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Mozart’s clever wife

  He was hopeless, never could keep anything in order, lost his income on the pools and always ill since childhood, when his father drove him on too hard. He loved her elder sister, who refused him for his wantonness, and so he married little sister Constance, who would compensate her lack of beauty, which had been her sister’s, with

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circus

Some take grasses, some drugs some drink and smoke some rage holy wars kill, slaughter, butcher and choke some desert their families some earn blind fortunes others knock at places of worship …taming monkeys beyond our wits. If only we stay where we are we could see without going far the high we need is much within the circus will

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Without roots

  When you are born you are supposed to be well planted in good ground for growth and germinativeness, but if you are exiled or evacuated and your roots are brutally chopped off you find yourself a flying leaf with no refuge but heaven, and you have to deal yourself with homelessness and no one to be able to rely

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