Parenting Son
Never easy father
have I become
to a seldom-slacking son;
question riddled, answer starved.
Ever damning teacher,
steadfast I brim
with random Herculean challenges;
love infused, tone obscured.
Always impossible mentor
inspired to pontificate
by the man emerging, boy folding in;
scout the penitent gentleman.
Loafer
Poem #26 from Mad Man’s Creed.
–
Ambling round the house,
in an untucked cosy shirt,
he shuffles to a vagabond hymn
inspired by symphonies unheard.
He seeks reflection from the lower cast,
like a cat with nothing else to do.
Hard to deny him due affection.
He purrs with intellect and caste.
Delia
She went wandering
in the tall tall grass
chasing autumn leaves.
Her father spies her on the fringes.
He calls to her, but she is lost.
His ears are stung running
in the cool cool rushes
of the purgatory wind.
He hears a lullaby she sings
faintly rising on the gusts.
She crests upon a hill
and blends into the hues
of the orange orange sky
against the [...]
Borderline
a pantoum by Laurence Vincent
She brushes along the edges,
coloring pale fibers in morning light.
Rebels of grey hair scatter cross her eyes
and over frames of focused glass.
Coloring pale fibers in morning light,
she hums while she choreographs,
observed behind a frame of glass.
The nurses do not hear the chaconne.
She hums while she choreographs
the brush’s colored strokes.
The nurses are [...]
