You stand there shivering, like

a web in a wind

vulnerable but resilient,

easily underestimated.

I consider it best not to touch

just in case, just in case

I find your Achilles heel

and by accident,

destroy something precious,

that can never be put back together.

I have to step back

ignoring the imaginary prodding

between my shoulder blades

that tries to propel me forward

and the disemboweling churn

in my gut urging me to risk everything,

so, I become a shadow, seen and unseen,

but always there.

 

© Graham Sherwood 01/2019

Eyes closed

peering into that vague

diaphanous darkness,

three fingers drumming

a reflective tattoo

on the uncleared kitchen table,

breakfast crumb dottles

bounce in rhythm

trampolining,

it’s thinking time

and the day clears

I am ready.

 

© Graham Sherwood 01/2019

I understand what you need

trust me,

I have extensive experience

look at my record,

I feel your pain

follow me,

I will take you to a better place

let me make a difference,

I know what to do

believe what I tell you,

I am the right man to deliver

don’t listen to others,

I will never lie to you

your life is safe with me,

I’ll do my best to help

we’re in this mess together,

I can’t make many promises

we do need each other,

I’m only human after all

let me stand beside you,

I would like to do more

everyone is equal here,

I don’t remember saying that

 

© Graham Sherwood 01/2019

It’s only now that I realize

you have sacrificed yourself

to tend her as she lay dying

your own needs sidelined.

Now as clothes seem

to be consuming your body

you’ve all but stopped eating too

meat is indigestible, tasteless

as you are being slowly poisoned

too late to make a difference.

So I’ll pad my heart once more

make it leather,

ready it for tanning

as I watch you fade

to a 4×4 black and white

snap from the past.

 

© Graham Sherwood 01/2019

Winter trees are lean

lit dimly in weak afternoon sun

brushed deftly by early frost

unclothed and beautiful, they

hold a frigid grace, a sanctity

amongst the searching abuses

of this savage season’s

rapacious tongue.

 

© Graham Sherwood 12/2018

mistletoe pearls await their hour

and warmly shiver above the yule log’s flame

green holly leaves

carefully placed yellow spears

hope for hapless flesh

in search of blood

the ivy swag

its tortuous path

waymarked by bundled cinnamon

and clove-pricked orange

a strange perfume

advent tallow smoulders

newly snuffed

impatient for tomorrow’s flame

all in all, a heady brew

 

 

© Graham Sherwood 12/2018

The cattle, hushed,

have burrowed low

all nestle there as one.

shine lonely light on this clear night,

for lantern’s oil is gone.

 

Far from the distance Magi ride,

on camel ships, in trio,

their urgent need

for compass speed,

so drawn, their hearts in brio.

 

Shivering shepherds meekly come,

with unknowing exploration.

to chance a peep,

like curious sheep,

in wondrous adoration.

 

Thus, one beauteous mother lies,

serene and calmly numb.

gently from her womb,

to light the room,

a cherub boy has come.

 

Quiet,

our naked alabaster prince,

in swaddled, loving bliss,

his hands unfurl,

to greet our world,

and sends us all a kiss.

 

 

© Graham Sherwood 12/2018

The headteacher looks tired

her hair could do with a brush

as she beseeches the parents

not to take pictures until the end

knowing full well they will.

 

Why have schools forsaken

the once mellow tones

of the plinky-plonk piano

for an electronic keyboard

that rattles like an old toffee tin.

 

The children file in

they’re excited and afraid

seeking out mums and dads

with surreptitious waves

wet-eyed grandmas sniff

 

Of course, we all cry

as the darlings recite

the comings and goings

of that Bethlehem night

 

but somehow we all manage

to ignore the homeless beggar

on the way out.

 

© Graham Sherwood 12/2018

Our ghosts eat well tonight

laying feast on old souls

forgotten memories, and

abandoned reminiscences

that have faded.

They gorge at old rendezvous

those secret intimate

deep-thinking places

we no longer visit,

licking their drooling lips

anticipating the next

sweet sorrow let slip,

imaginary friends forgot

graves left untended.

Starve your ghosts

lay siege to precious memories

times, places, customs

make the past your own.

 

© Graham Sherwood 12/2018

 

You’re young

and you meet someone

the right one, and beguiled

your nubile fleshy naïve heart

gets pulled and twisted, bruised and battered

but you survive, thrive and love grows

 

later perhaps children come

love becomes serious

life, work, house, home

and your muscular parental heart

tenses to carry the weight, holds firm

and your love widens, ripens, polishes.

 

Eventually the children will leave home

to live recklessly, fearless

to learn, travel, work, perhaps marriage

and your mature, experienced heart

develops a rind, a skin, catching their fallout,

love is strong, easy, trusting, solid, close.

 

Oh! But then a grandchild is delivered

a tiny scrap of skin and bone

that grows, investigates, absorbs

and with the tiniest fingers

gently scratches away at your heart

leaving it fleshy, nubile, and unprotected once again.

 

© Graham Sherwood 12/2018