RING AROUND A FINGER

This poem was written in Barcelona many years ago. I often read it at poetry events. 

Ring around a finger

Circle, turn, slide up

Fall through frantic air

Bounces on the carriage floor

The man in the next seat

Smiles, retrieves it

The gold glints

Between finger and thumb

Sat opposite I invent reasons

Possible divorce, Infidelity?

Anger or secret regret?

I ask what it means

“Sometimes there is no meaning”

You tell me: “Stuff happens”

This is our stop

We exit the Metro

The poem pretty much records events as they happened. This is unusual. Life usually isn't this obliging. This next poem too happened as it reads.

First Book Blues

-discussing my poetry

He says to me “Its all accessible,

Straight forward, one dimensional.

No ambiguity or esoteric turn of phrase”.

He likes his poetry dense,

Something to get his teeth into.

Well mine is not” I tell him,

“I’m not that clever,

Let others write complex lines,

I’m just not that together,

Anyway I have to strain to get it to rhyme”

I have to say I still find the memory galling.

Here's Bridget St John with JumbleQueen.

Until next time.