New Memory Cafe Poems

Started working with Westminster Arts in a new Memory Cafe in Hammersmith. A new poem, inspired by the participants' chat over tea and cake as they painted pots and planted seeds.

The Painting of Pots

She paints her pot a vibrant purple and blue

freely, yet tempered

by design.

A Rothco from the fabric of Africa.

Today was a storm in a teapot.

The husband she cares for

at home,

once a tv and radio mechanic,

can no longer put the tv on.

It's a big patience

she says,

indicating Kahn's fancy china cup

from Peckham.

If he says teapot

and she says teacup

the problems start.

So now she says teapot.

She came by sea in the Seventies,

hot from Sierra Leone,

used an afro wig, platforms and flares

and met him through her brother,

who didn't like the idea,

them both coming from different backgrounds.

But who listens to their brother?

The days of autocratic men are quickly going,

says the man from Grenada,

knowingly.

Round the table the women laugh.

She calmly paints,

precise strokes that allow the pattern to emerge,

a blue eye leaps from the royal purple

like a spot on the surface of Jupiter.

It's a big patience.

Do not go gentle..wrestling on the inside of Veronica Toppino's extraordinary performative suit. Thanks to Peta Lily and The London College of Fashion for shaking up them bones.

The Daffodils

One of the poems for Dad whose birthday would have been this month.

The Daffodils

When the Daughter returned

From the meeting with the Registrar,

Stone in heart, unbelieving –

The man did not know her father,

Hell bent on putting

The hateful year behind him –

When she returned,

Smile mask in position,

He fixed her with his one good eye and said,

I thought I’d at least make it to the Spring!

Mortified, she lied,

No one said you wouldn’t, Dad.

But the Registrar had said

Dead by Christmas.

In a corner of the front garden,

Always his domain,

The Mother had no interest in that lawless patch

Flanking car and step,

There now began a pushing and swelling

Beneath the frozen earth,

Driving juice green flow against the clock.

And lo!

Three daffodils burst through the January snow,

Loyal against all odds,

Sounding the trumpet for Dennis

Who put the old behind him

Against all odds

In a miracle of Spring.

up against a brick wall

Just testing new blog! What a joke!!