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Category Archives: Poems

In Memory

Coffee first thing

The percolator, always dripping

Four slices of toast

Lined up in their rack

A glass of orange juice

Everything had its place.

You eating your sausage –

Cumberland with marmalade –

When the Witch wasn’t looking

You’d pass me some toast

“Don’t worry sweetie, you won’t get fat”

In the reck-room

Reclined in your easy chair

Enjoying total silence, save for

the crinkle of the paper.

Glasses perched on the

end of your nose

Reflecting back

a not so pretty child

But you’d dip your head

Sneak me a wink

And when you smiled

I knew

Where I got my dimples from.

(Lisa Harte, April 2015)

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‘And we sit upon the Rocks’

And we sit upon the Rocks

Till the stone spells a name

Casting out for lovers lost

Nothing, ever, stays the same

Till the stone spells a name

Looking to the bubbling Foam

Nothing, ever, stays the same

Never read, you are quite alone

Looking to the bubbling Foam

Somewhere, in there; is that a face?

Never fear, you are quite alone

Never still, in this time and place

And we sit upon the Rocks

Casting out for lovers lost.

(Lisa Harte, February 2015)

 

‘Distance – Variation on a Theme by Robert Burns’

O my Hate bleeds in the red red rose

That’s newly sprung in June

O my Hate, like the Death of me

That’s sweetly played your Doom

As sweet as you are, my bonnie lass

So deep in loathing am I

And I will cure you still, my dear

When my Heart is a sea gone dry

My Heart, a sea gone dry, my dear

It will be such good fun

To see just how much you can cry

And how fast you might run

And fare-thee-well, my bonnie lass

My Hate will keep a-while

There is much to do, and you shall put

Between us, ten thousand mile.

 

 (Lisa Harte, February 2015)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Labour – Variation on a Theme by W.H. Davies’

I have no time to stand and stare

And at this time, I barely care

No time to look upon the flowers,

Or muse over those broken towers

Birds prancing in the grass –

When will all of this pass?

The words fly by, barely a glance

I have no time to watch them dance

I have no time to simply be

The whole world, seems to rest on me

A silly life I chose to dare

No there is no time to stand and stare.

(Lisa Harte, February 2015.)