Fleeting Glimpse

She looks down at me
from high
on my living room wall.

A fairy now,
although she was real enough
when she drew the picture.

We often talked
about fairys,
about the fairys
at the bottom of her garden.

Her face appears
before me as I write.

I thank her once again
for the lesson
which she taught me
before she chose to leave.




Ó 2009 David Agnew

Cacophony

Constant chatter from the herring gulls
aloft, on top of thermals rising after dawn,
calling to each other and again perhaps to me.

Ownership; the sky and air belong to us
proclaim those fierce and independent birds,
home is where we spread our wings
ours, the wind, the sun, the sea.

Never scared to revel in our freedom.
You can only envy; you might as well enjoy.




Ó 2009 David Agnew

I went to a workshop a few weeks ago - the topic was surrealist poetry.

Sometimes I get very good poems out of workshops, sometimes I get very silly poems.

My lover turns into a teapot

I looked at you sitting on the sofa,
a giant teapot, rose coloured,
rocking gently from side to side.

I put my arms around you - I was cold,
embraced the warmth - felt it seep
into my being; picked you up,
carried you through to the kitchen,
tipped you, poured your contents
into my favourite mug,
topped it off with milk and carried
it through to my armchair to drink
while I enjoyed a cigarette.

"Oy" you said from the kitchen.
"Oh shit" I thought, pondered on
changing you back, but instead
closed the door to the kitchen
so I could have my tea in peace.




Ó 2009 David Agnew

Perception

She bought me a ball,
plastic,
yellow and red.

I took it out,
played with it,
turned it over
in my hands,
thought
"What use is this?"

"Throw it gently
in the air."
she said
"Catch it
as it falls."

I threw it up,
watched the red
of its outside
disappear.
When it landed
in my hand
it was yellow.




Ó 2009 David Agnew

It is not often that I get a poem out of one of my own workshops, but last Saturday I did  - 

Knowing

I can see through you.
And yet it does not help me
to know you better.

Your shadow passes
across the landscape
before me. I want
to know you better.

Have you come into my life
to fight me or embrace me?
May I know you better?

And will you dance with me,
fill in, for me, the gaps,
let me see you whole
so I can know you better?

Sit down beside me
on the grass, let us talk
of who you are and who I am
until we know each other better.




Ó 2009 David Agnew

I attended a poetry workshop last week in which the themes were - Peace, Heroes and Heroines.  I have problems taking poetry workshops seriously - hence the following poem.

I should point out that it is in no way auto-biographical.  *Smile*

David

Heroes

I spent all afternoon
looking through
my knicker drawer;
problem was
none of them were suitable.

I had to disqualify
those with holes in the backside,
white ones - too plain,
those which played music when squeezed,
or with pictures of Fred Flintstone,
or which said Glentoran Football Club,

and the ones I was keeping as souvenirs,
a thong that got left behind when she left,
the lace ones I bought her for Christmas,
and the ones she said were her favourite.

It is clearly impossible
to be a super-hero
if you have no knickers
to wear on the outside.




Ó 2009 David Agnew