Above the Pump

Above the Pump

My universe for long childhood moments;

A high square-foot of red brick

Atop the wall,

Above the green pump,

Miraculous provider of clear water in

Hard-earned gushings from the depths.

An awkward stepping to my lofty perch,

But solidly constructed,

As seemed life at that time.

I remember racing my cousin

Along crusted crane-jibs,

Peering into quarry depths on quiet Sundays;

The winner, first to touch the tip,

The loser, first to miss his step.

Foolishly glorious.

Gloriously foolish.

Nowadays,

I cannot look down a stairwell;

Yesterday’s brave heights

Belong to a stranger.

I sometimes remember him...

FIL  03/11/09

'The Painted Lady'. An obscure old poem..

The Painted Lady   

Self declared perfection,

Well honed edge to designer  blade,

Cutting all around who

Refuse to fawn and drool.

A butterfly from a jar,

Without natural colour,

Accepting preserved death:

A frozen beauty...

She knows...

But seeks no escape.

FIL - 29/12/08 on Myspace (withdrawn after 1 day)

An Introduction to Electricity

An Introduction to Electricity


A dark room;
Chinese lacquered chairs,
Incandescent gas mantles,
Faded sepia photographs showing
Proud missionaries posing
Midst exotic palms,
Chintz curtains and Persian rugs
All infused with the stink of lamp oil
And strong peppermints.

Old Mother Goward
Patted flat her long black gown,
Adjusted the vicious pins
Holding the tight grey bun of wiry hair,
Leaned forward and peered through
Silver wired spectacles
At the child on the mat.

"Never climb a telegraph pole!
Evil fairies live there.
Young Sam did so last year,
Fell like a shot pheasant
Stone dead!"

For years I thought her
A scary old lady and
This tale burns in my head
For ever,,,
Words and purpose now understood,
The power of that moment remains.

But she made good lemonade!


FIL  02/04/09

“High Brow” (revision)

“High Brow” (revision)

The conversation bubbles and pops round my ears,

Arcane theories and fashionable quotations

Sparkle and drift in the light haze of amber smoke,

Vanishing in the updraft through her Tiffany lamp,

Enlightening only dragonflies en route,

(As bound in glass as my understanding),

Dissipating over a high brown ceiling.

FIL  04/02/10