An Onion at Ninety Degrees

All my thoughts of you, my baby,
Stem from one harsh foggy night,
Rushing Mum from home to birthplace.
In an hour you were in sight.

Oh, so pretty was my Zo-Zo,
Shining pink with lusty cries,
And today you’re such a beauty
Fair of skin with gentle eyes.

All your brothers and your sisters
Cherish you with mighty praise,
Missed you when you left the country,
Know your travels will amaze.

How adventurous is my Zo-Zo!
Travelling the world so vast.
So intrepid is her nature,
Lives so fully, learns so fast.

I love all our conversations,
Hearing all your wondrous news.
I imagine that I’m with you,
In your footsteps, in your shoes.

Level-headed is my Zo-Zo,
Sensible and makes sense too.
Sees the world with no illusions,
Hers the balanced overview.

I knew how you’d shine, my baby,
Saw your future shining bright.
I have wished you such good fortune
Since that dark and foggy night.

Alma My Shining Star

 

You, whose strange ethereal beauty
Haunts by day and in my dreaming,
So, so sweet!
I love to greet
Your happy features sunny, beaming,
Growing swiftly, granddaughter mine.

Every little thing you’re doing
Thrills my heart and stirs my thinking,
I watch you grow,
I love you so
Approving all those moments, drinking
In each step, each word you speak.

You’re the essence of my longing;
Through you, Alma, I will realise
So many hopes
I love to hold.
My survival is through your eyes
Living each day for my granddaughter’s steps.

Little Alma, dusky beauty,
Smiling angel of my waking,
Hold my memory!
I love to catch
Each breath of you, each second taking
Away my fears, granddaughter mine.

The Song of Silvo The Great

 

As he makes his mark on Bristol,
Silvo raises all the standards,
Takes the prize for handsome charmers;
Wins the trophy for the gamers!
And when he is tired of playing
Silvo thinks his thoughts of conquest.
Great is this tremendous warrior!

Mighty, he, the champion pupil;
Wonderful his schoolroom exploits,
And his excellent reputation
Follows him with spoken virtue!
His, the legend in the building;
His, the everlasting glory.
Silvo will be famous one day,
Will be master of his future
Will the ladies’ hearts go breaking
When his love is finally chosen.

Silvo’s exploits will make history;
His the name linked with discovery.
All the world will know his brilliance,
Some rejoicing in his shadow,
Praising Silvo’s claim to greatness.

Max, the Mum

 

My first daughter, precious jewel,
Nearly never made it.
Far too early she arrived,
Sick and jaundiced, but she thrived.
Mother’s milk delivered later
To her lonely incubator
Kept my daughter with it.

So of course she was so special.
Had to be, so flourished.
Born in her creative skills,
Latent wonders, magic thrills,
Yet her strongest and eternal
Were to be her gifts maternal;
Babies she has nourished.

Max, the Mum, so strong and loving,
Caring, she amazes.
All her children, stars so bright,
Testaments to her insight,
Echo Max’s clearest thinking.
Magnifying, spreading, linking
Goodness that she raises.

Max, the artist, deeply knowing,
Works with real feeling.
What she does is so precise,
Secure within her own advice,
Nurturing her thoughts aspiring
Just as she instructs her offspring.
Quietly revealing.

Owed to Toby

Toby keeps me steadfast. Toby keeps me sane.
Toby holds my mind in check and limits my disdain.
He’s as old as all the hills, his wisdom strong and bright,
And though my youngest, he can see so clearly in the night.

Toby’s got the picture. Toby’s taste is clear.
He’s so individual and he keeps his mind in gear.
A motivated man, self-realisation is his “thing”,
And what he chooses for himself is worthy of a king.

Toby’s self-assuredness is a privilege to see,
His confidence and wit live up to all he strives to be.
Toby makes me happy, he’s excellent company,
And he can make me feel as though he’s much older than me.

Toby, he is tall and dark and handsome – makes me proud.
The girls all love young Toby, they praise his name aloud,
And he can have his choice of all the maidens in the land
But chooses to be true to one – the one that’s close at hand.

Toby sets me thinking. His thoughts are brave and true,
And, though we don’t always agree, I have to hand it to
Such youthful innovation, all logic and finesse.
Incisive words, distinctive stance, from where I cannot guess.

Toby’s like an oracle, his young opinions bold
Drive home to me the weaknesses and errors of the old.
His self-control, it conquers me; his eloquence so cool,
It helps me see a new perspective, break another rule.

I owe so much to Toby. His frequent trips back here
Now that I’m getting weaker, diminishing my fear,
Help me to see the future, embodied in his being.
My Toby is the now and the forever that I’m seeing.

Charlie Barlie

Elegance and brilliance, words so fine,
Describe my Charlie, daughter mine,
Who, people say, takes after me.
A true creative soul is she.

Her fresh young beauty does astound
Her smile with mischief does abound.
Her nature true and full of love,
Her sweetness gentle as the dove.

My Charlie’s confident and strong,
To art and nature she’ll belong.
With ideas bubbling in her soul
Deep self-fulfillment is her goal.

Her mind is sharp, her eye likewise,
Her sensitivity is a prize.
Her words so wise beyond her years,
Her goodness supercedes her fears.

Oh, Charlie! What a jewel you are,
With all the trappings of a star!
So tall and lovely, sweet and good,
I’d give the world to you if I could.

Her gracefulness a natural thing,
Her intellect, a song to sing.
Her charm is quite beyond compare,
Her sense of fun is everywhere.

My Charlie! You’re a special soul,
Destined for some unique rôle,
A wondrous future is in store
To make your loved ones gaze in awe.

Being Lulu

(Lulu is my 11-year-old granddaughter – such fun)

 

Not many people have the nerve
To go through life with grace and verve
The like of which is seldom seen.
But if you happen to have been
Anywhere near Lulu’s place,
You will have seen
Such verve and grace.

To be so beautiful and bright,
To generate such fun and light
That folk make comments all the week
And say that Lulu’s quite unique.
Whatever else this girl has done,
They’ll recognise
Her light and fun.

Her sense of humour is profound,
Her laughter echoes clear and round,
So all her friends quite soon join in
And everybody’s in a spin.
The joy she brings to all – oh dear!
Just like a bubble,
Round and clear.

Yes, Lulu’s famous everywhere
And even looking here and there
You’ll never find a better friend.
With her the very best times you’ll spend,
And with her wisdom and good cheer
She will be there
For you, my dear.

To Adam

Lie there in innocence, my little first-born,
Care not a jot about why you exist.
Eyes are unfocused,
Hands clench so awkwardly,
Feet kick so randomly, thoughts in a mist.

But just a few moments ago, just what happened?
You looked at me directly, saw deep inside.
Followed my movements, understood everything,
Full recognition. Miraculous pride.

Now you are restless, dismayed without reason,
Your sweet, new-born features contorted, then calm.
Emotion has vanished,
Intelligence absent,
Just chaos and confusion, searching for balm.

But where is the knowing you showed only recently?
Where is the focus you brought from the womb?
Why has this vacant expression replaced
The all-seeing, omniscient dispeller of doom?

So you are here, and fully on board.
Your life is beginning, we’ve started the clock.
Childhood is pressing,
Your mother’s breast nearing,
Replacing the trauma, absorbing the shock.

Oh where did you go to, the strange godlike being
That greeted your daddy just moments from birth?
Perhaps you are marking time, learning from living
Until you return like us all, back to earth.

Wake Up!

I begin with a poem I wrote about a week ago, entitled “Wake Up!”  …

 

Wake Up!         April 2008

 

A moment of madness,

There when I wake up.

Feeling OK for a brief span, sublime.

Then it is flooding back,

Harshest reality.

My days are over; I’ve run out of time.

 

My body’s ruined,

My system attacked

By a ravaging cancer that’s spreading so fast.

Now I’m accepting

For me there’s no future

But day-to-day viewing the shades of the past.

 

How long I have left

There’s no way of knowing,

So each day is borrowed, a cumbersome debt.

The payback is coming,

The interest growing,

An onerous burden that’s not quite here yet. 

 

For me it’s too early.

There’s so much to do,

But already the choices left to me are few.

No longer eating

Save liquid refreshment.

Too weak to exercise; too much to rue. 

 

I weep for my loved ones

And sigh for my friends.

Leaving them all is just not what I’d planned.

I so regret parting

With my dearest Tracy

A lifetime of love slips away just like sand. 

 

And yet I’m here now.

So how do I ration

The time that remains? How best to proceed?

Must earn, so I’m working;

Must sleep, so I’m dreaming;

Confusion is reigning; what else do I need? 

 

I think of those others

Departed before me,

Diminishing life spans just gone in a flash.

My parents, my sister,

Aunts, uncles and cousins

Are memories fading, their substance like ash. 

 

My treatment is looming,

So life could be lengthened.

But what will the cost of extended time be?

Will I be a zombie

Or creased up in agony?

Should quality not be my priority? 

 

Tonight my sweet daughter’s

Returning from India.

Tonight she’ll be told of her daddy’s demise.

Oh, how can we do this

To poor dear Charlie?

Her trip from the airport Hell in disguise. 

 

My kids are my real strength.

Through them I’m handling

This nightmare scenario with realism and calm.

I am so proud of them

And they’re providing

A future of sorts, living on beyond harm. 

 

My nurse from MacMillan

Has just been to see me,

A curious mixture of pathos and cheer.

I feel her pity,

It’s her great capacity,

Spreading it thinly with sugar and fear. 

 

Next week, radiotherapy.

Then, maybe, chemo.

My internet’s buzzing with promise for pay.

Cat’s Claw and Mistletoe,

Shitake, Shark Fin,

A few hundred dollars will see you OK. 

 

Yes, yes, I’m still standing

And yes, I’m still working.

My writing the proof of my presence – still here!

And sometimes forgetting,

Just lately ignoring

The fact of my passing, just trashing my fear. 

 

My body is thinner,

My eyes are much larger,

Their home darker craters in a shadow of me.

My strong hands are failing,

I know that I’m ailing,

Yet tell myself nothing of what is to be. 

 

Instinct takes over.

No self-preservation,

But deadly acceptance, a strange monstrous calm.

My soul’s insulation

A quiet intuition,

A knowing that I’m beyond all further harm. 

 

Your turn will come one day.

Perhaps, if you’re lucky,

You will make the best of what’s left of your time.

But if you should vanish

And leave without warning,

Here’s hoping you’ve already lived through your prime.

 

 

Well, that’s the poem. It’s not intended to be morbid – more of a self-knowledge process.