the old flame

The Old Flame

I have been tried to find the address of the love of my life

Banal?  Perhaps, but I think we only fall truly in love once.

Even if we fall in love hundred times more it will never be

the same.  Hundred times, there are serial romanticizisers

who  falls in love every time girl smiles I found her address,

she is married – how dared she- and a grandmother now.

You can never go back- a banality- but why should I meet

a granny, except the girl she once was when I loved her.

The layers of years we both carry a burden that has made

us shapeless and unattractive. If I met her I would look if

there was a residue of her youth in her eyes and not blue

rinsed hair and golden rimmed glasses.

When she left me – the first love is a fire that burns into

an ash that shatters in the prevailing wind of life- I looked

for her face and aroma in every woman I met.

Then like grief the distance helped and was able to smile

of my foolishness. She is not forgotten, she is a nugget of

gold that has helped enriching my life  

soldier

The common soldier

Once motherland I remember well often with a patina

of unbecoming sentimentality. I was born there, once

birthplace is a magnet it never loses its charismatic power

even though what I remember is poverty, the endless

struggle of the working class. I have a few good memory

and they too are in a way unbecoming.

There was a war the occupier’s soldiers gave me chocolate

and snacks, they had horses and let me sit on them playing

 cowboy; yes the cowboys are universal liked.

My experience has coloured my adult life I’m not so quick in

my condemnation the world is not black and white but has

many nuances; war is not what a soldier wants but at times

he has to fight a war that is not of his choosing but he

has to shoulder the aftermath.  

motorbike

Motorbike

My motorbike has been on the terrace during the winter

 I cleaned it and tried to start it, alas, the battery was

flat so I tried to kick start it but gave up got to get someone

with strong legs and muscular arms to start it.

At this time – spring- in Algarve there are on flowers that

only last a week or so and so delicate that if you pick one

it will become a wizen faced and die in your hand a hungry

child by the gaslight in the slums of Soho.

Some flowers are too delicate for human hands and can

only be handled by angels with fingers soft as a silk scarf.

When I take picture of the flowers they come up blank

like they belong to a religious sect that does not believe

in idolatry. Splendour should be shared, if you see it alone

it is like being an old man with Mona Liza in his vault.

Snowfall in April

Snowfall In April

 The snowflakes that fell this morning were big

and descended slowly and with sadness they knew

that this was the wrong time of the year – April- and

the morning sun will melt then into oblivion and

water that would fill ditches already overflowing.

Ejected, the mother cloud was too heavy to get over

the mountain and a million snowdrops were scarified

so the cloud could sail to the tundra in Siberia.

One million volunteers, first there had been a pause,

but a few thousand walked forward others followed.

They got a blessing a white miniature cloud each and

a promise that one day they would be reborn as flurry

on the South Pole, a mass wedding of snowdrifts and

they would never be alone again  

Israel's Responsibility

Israel’s Responsibility

On the west bank last year hundred and ten Mosques

were vandalized by the revolting settlers and we hear

little about it; it is only when a synagogue is attacked

that the world press broadcast this wicked behaviour.

What is shocking is that Israel doesn’t do more to help

the Palestinians they are responsible for to defend

them, mostly small olive and goat farmers, from having

their places of worship destroyed and often have their

olive trees burnt and land stolen from under their feet.

I know it is difficult for Israel to intervene as settlers are

often religious fanatics and Jews too who claim they have

right to all the land, but for the sake of peace I think

Israel ought to protect and guard the Palestinians from

this marauding horde of hooligans.  

the old Jewish couple

The Old Jewish Couple I have written about this before but somehow didn’t get it right my perceived brusqueness made them think of Cracow they had fled and all the relatives lost in the turbulence of a war where they as civilians, but Jewish, had their life made into a nightmare. There was a small sweet shop near my cafe, selling my chocolate with nuts, so one day I walked in there to buy a bar, the man behind The counter bent down and changed hat. His wife reached out and tried to give me a sweet. Now the man had a Panama hat and no words were spoken. I spoke English to them which eased the situation, this tall Nazi looking person was not a ghost from the past, just a person with a sweet tooth. I bought the chocolate, handshakes told them was in business too had cafe near them, they didn’t know never left the house. The sweet shop didn’t have many visitors the chocolate I bought had been in the shop so long it was green. But when I left the shop I felt they didn’t want me to come back I reminded them too much of the horror of Cracow.

my daughter, the breeze

my daughter, the breeze

Balls and balls...sonnet

Balls and Balls...Sonnet At the posh supermarket in Albufeira it sells Icelandic fishballs harvested from ten- year-old cods. They are white, and round just like other balls in size, say, meatballs, but they taste salty and tangy, perfect with chilled wine, almost like eating the Portuguese dish baccallao de nata the way they make it in Alentejo. The wine at this supermarket is overpriced, but some of them have fancy names on colourful labels as to make them more appetizing like we were going to eat the labels too. 99% of the shoppers are British and struts around patronizing us locals who came to gaze at the wonderful frozen food one can buy here as the English housewife cannot cook and take great pride in her incompetence.... men are hopeless too, that is why they go to British restaurants to eat pie with chips and mushy peas. I had friends, British – can you believe it- who lived here for years, when they needed cancer surgery they went to Britain to have it done, the waiting list was so long that both died; the Brits do not like being prodded by foreigner. So what was I doing here at this posh place? I had been told they sold smoked ox testicles here it was good for my flagging potency when I asked around the shop fell silent. No one knew. Insipid fishballs, but I saw men putting on their reading glasses for a closer look at shelves that sold foreign food.

diabetes and its Porblem

Diabetes and its Problems In street traffic and dealing with idiotic drivers I have at times been so frustrated I have stopped my car gone out and shouted at everyone. Normally slow traffic doesn’t bother me It is only when the beast within me scream I behave irrationally. This I now learn has to do with low blood sugar and I have been struggling to keep it low to avoid stroke, but it appears I have overdone it. So how am I to know when doctors are confused? Perhaps many diabetes is not caused by sweets or too much food, but it can also be a mental illness that manifests itself in the form of diabetes, type two. I’m not medically trained and will not discuss this with a doctor principally because they are so patronising when a layman has a medical thought, yet fact is when I have written a poem the blood sugar is normal I have released something from my mind, a poison that stung from the snake of lack of learning, it often bites me and I’m doomed to write of the near things in life, what you take for granted but is a wonder to me, who rediscover a new world every day, often it is a world I dislike being a member of; I can take a pill for this but prefer to be angry and not too commonsensical.

bonds of love

bonds of love

diabetes

Diabetes In street traffic and dealing with idiotic drivers I have at times been so frustrated they i have stopped my car gone out and shouted at everyone. Normally slow traffic doesn’t bother me It is only when the beast within me scream I behave irrationally. This I now learn has to do with low blood sugar and I have been struggling to keep it low to avoid stroke, but it appears I have overdone it. So how am I to know when doctors are confused? Perhaps many diabetes are not caused by sweets or too much food, but it can also be a mental illness that manifests itself in the form of diabetes, type two. I’m not medically trained and will not discuss this with a doctor principally because they are so patronising when a layman has a medical thought, yet fact is when I have written a poem the blood sugar is normal I have released something from my mind, a poison that stung from the snake of lack of learning, it often bites me and I’m doomed to write of the near things in life, what you take for granted but is a wonder for me, who rediscover a new world every day often it is a world I like to be a inhabitant of I can take a pill for this but prefer to be angry and commonsensical.

borderline Drunk

Borderline Drunk It has been a bad day driving around having A coffee here and a diet coke there, The problem was I had been drinking the night Before and craving for more Was filling my heads with excuses, the thought I deserve a drink.... do I merit to suffer? It is evening now I’m watching Ellen this woman Who looks like Peter Pan, her audience is mostly Screaming females and I secretly adore her. I’m nursing a beer and reflects on the illness of Alcoholism the tragedy of those who cannot stop They have my sympathy but I can’t tell them to Wait having a drink to after eight o’clock and Drink a couple of beer.

Australia Vet

Australia vet. On a farm that has ten hundred sheep a lamb has a broken leg. our intrepid vet is on his way to save it. He succeeded and we all get misty eyed. We who think animals are our equal to us except we eat this could give a wrong impression. If all people are equal so are animals, but what we see is dogs with broken legs and a hurt pig in its sty We must learn to understand that some animals are our enemies, not that they have sought out to be, so and to avoid the abysmal pests we have to eradicate them. My old dog having been in Hellas and beyond I had to spare its agony and put it down – twelve years it waited- Its deep blue eyes held no rancour. And now alone I can’t help thinking, who is helping me through the transition from the conscious to the mystery.

sports

Sport Then I was a boy I trained to be a goalkeeper I was a member of a club called Viking and We won over other local teams. This was because I was a top keeper of our team, but this was Never spoken of, only those who made goals, getting Through me got accolade. The goals I saved was Taken for granted and the lack of recognition got to On my nerves. A goalkeeper is like a poet, we Remember sentences spoken by one of them but we Can’t remember his name. But I’m not being totally Honest a football dribble is soon forgotten but What the poem said, if only a line is remembered is Repeated for all eternity.

sport

Sport Then I was a boy I trained to be a goal keeper I was a member of a club called Viking and We won over other local teams. This was because I was a top keeper of our team, but this was Never spoken of, only those who made goals, getting Through me got accolade. The goals I saved was Taken for granted and the lack of recognition got to On my nerves. A goalkeeper is like a poet, we Remember sentences spoken by one of them but we Can’t remember his name. But I’m not being totally Honest a football dribble is soon forgotten but What the poem said, if only a line is remembered is Repeated for all eternity.

full house

Full House. The little house in the poor part of the town walls looking ready to burst . when the newlyweds long time ago it was small for them and they spoke of getting another one. Time was hard and one child after another was born, eight in all. The long ago newlywed, joked they had to wait to get the house back when the children became adult and could find their own place to live; it took time and finally they were alone, but not at peace, the whole quarter of rickety houses was being erased like removing memories of hard times, and the bulldozers came. The couple got a small flat in a high rise building and with their children moving in or out according to their bad luck in life, the small flat was soon full of bickering adult children.

the deficency

the deficency

The  Deficiency

Recurring dream in a city landscape,

 Streets between tall buildings are like mountains

No wild goat will climb.

I want to go home and feed my dog

But have lost my air-line ticket

And the taxi I took to get to the airport is lost

 keeps running in darkening circles.

The face I knew is no longer mine

It was lost somewhere in strange lands where

I thought to find contentment

To escape my childhood, but the face I see in

The morning is of a sullen child

Which no longer cry and cannot smile; this

Old face is not mine, I can’t blame the dog.

It waits and waits and id

Old still remembering good words and cuddles

I stretched my hand through time

The dog understands my helplessness closes

Its eyes and sleep.

Guilt and Disappointment I could have done

Much better

What was given I rejected.

But once upon a time I danced the tango in

Argentina, long before the dog was born.

a Group of new poems

a Group of new poems

About towns’ Destruction

Dubai is a city

Constructed for great buildings

And not for people 

Troika

A city is social place

Built by many over long time

Before city planners

Straitened crooked roads

And architects built shiny buildings

Brasilia a city

 In the middle of nowhere

A shrine to madness

Liverpool 1958

Pubs oozing of life lived

City planners killed it

Cities built for purpose

Not has social culture

Rain on decorative pavements

Borderline Drunk

It has been a bad day driving around having

A coffee here and a diet coke there,

The problem was I had been drinking the night

Before and craving for more

Was filling my heads with excuses, the thought

 I deserve a drink.... do I merit to suffer?

It is evening now I’m watching Ellen this woman

Who looks like Peter Pan, her audience is mostly

Screaming females and I secretly adore her.

I’m nursing a beer and reflects on the illness of

Alcoholism the tragedy of those who cannot stop

They have my sympathy but I can’t tell them to

Wait having a drink to after eight o’clock and

Drink a couple of beer.

   Got a lighter?

Find a good chair

Park you bum on softness

Lit a cigarette

Inhale

Have cold beer

Everything falls into place

A world at ease

The god, Bad and the Ugly

Every war has good people and bad people and many of

the bad are on our side. I remember the German occupation

of Norway living on a farm with a German military camp.

I met their soldiers and most of them only wanted to go home

to their families. The peace came and when the said soldiers

Who had been kind to me – a little boy- where marched out

among the jeering of the people who suddenly felt heroic

enough to throw stones at the soldiers. I have tendency to feel

 for the losers they fought on the wrong side and lost

their dignity. But there are times when one has to take a stand.

When I aired my views I was told to shut up by a man who had

supplied them with meat and potatoes, he was a bad person,

and the biggest rock but in a democracy we have to live with his

kind.  I say this because the young men going to war In Syria or

elsewhere, might be wrong, but many of them are good people

who think they fight for delusory freedom of all Muslims.

The Damned

The end of the dream of a caliphate

Burning a pilot alive

The ultimate evil.

The jeering crowd I despise

They knew better.

Should they survive the horrors

Of their deed

The applause

When the massacre was showed

On TV.

And they will say

We had to applaud

Or they would have killed us too.

Of grandeur

They have nothing

Generation after generation

They only know blood on sand.

But I cannot forget that Christianity did the same

Burning people, by the thousands

In the name of good.

Christian atrocity is history now, but the burning

Of the Jordanian pilot

Show us what some people went through in the name

Of an abstract god run by madmen

Elderly Man on Motorbike

Tried the motorbike today, but it was too cold

I do not have a leather jacket and trousers as the real bikers have

Beside, i hate to admit this I do feel the cold

More now that I’m old and my wife and I are looking for

A private old people’s home

...Why private? I don’t want to sleep in a room with many other

Old people, many of them dislike have a bath-

We are looking for a small flat at the home, with staff to do

 The cleaning, washing up and doing the ironing.

My mother stayed in a very nice home, but she became truculent

Demanding the staff come and wipe her bum

They did but her behaviour didn’t make well liked which she

Did not a care about. Her life had been so difficult perhaps she wanted

Her own back against this cruel world and unjust world.

 I think i have to wait to April before

Trying my bike again.

 Old Age Sex

I should not write this because many would think it inappropriate

because it has to with sex in old age, or the thought of it but its

lack of completing.

I had not seen her for some time when we met at the supermarket, s

he had not had sex, like me, for a long time and we agreed to try.

At her home we didn’t fully undress, she kept her PH on. In bed to

for me to avoid the sight of sagging breasts.

We kissed and cuddled and finally I went down on her, put my tongue

in her vagina, found her clitoris and licked it.

 My god she was wet and ready, she came very hurriedly, but my cock

was not stiff enough for intercourse. So she gently masturbated me and

in the end we both had enjoyable sex, and it was as fulfilling as before.

Perhaps next time we meet I will be able to have a lasting erection

when I said i should not write about it is mostly because young people

think feel disgusted that old people are not very different from them,

  

Stop them Now

I have an itch it breaks out in red rash, been to the doctor

who says I’m suffering from an attack of Islamism which

manifest itself with a strong antipathy against people who

drink sweet tea and not are willing to swill beer like us.

They also dress strange when going to the mosque, that is

ok, it only when they talk about Shari laws I feel as they are

trying to convert us to their way of thinking.

 This is my country too I do not want it taken over by people

who represent another culture.

That is why I protest and march in the street, it is not about

anti Semitic, anti whatever feelings I, like my friends, are not

1for bending to a way of life that is alien to us. We did not

have a revolution to let a group of fundamentalist be given

or handed over to a group of nutcases.

The cigarette Smoking When I lived in Britain that place where refugees in Calais try to hide in a lorry for the crossing to the promised land. And haven where pubs are full and pints of lager is a dream a longing for the unobtainable. I liked to visits pubs more often than my wife liked not so much for the ale, one can buy beer and drink it in the park, (I remember Birkenhead Park before I got a job and a room) it was the cosiness of drinking and smoking. Then we were invaded by the health brigade and that was ok, and we had to go outside for a fag. This was no good for my health leaving a warm pub to go to the winter outside I got a cold so bad I left the country. Since smoking was no longer sociable I stopped. No doubt some scientist will tell us a bit of nicotine is good for you. For me it will be too late, I like nothing more than having a meal at a restaurant free of stale tobacco smoke.

Language Few like the Russians it is their difficult language If Putin spoke English fluently Like the African Obama does We would be friendly disposed and not believed In the anti-Russian propaganda we hear about. If the world spoke on language only There might be more peace, but which language? I shudder to think what The French may say. It could be that every school in Europe will teach Their pupils Arabic and the basics of Shari law It could be the world is tired of divisive democracy And is looking for nailed down firm laws where Is clear cut and you know what you are beheaded And for those who believed in the democracy no longer Have to worry about being pre- read before publishing They will not be published anyway...period. Social equality is only as free as the people in power Want it to be.

consumerism

Consumerism We are getting old my wife and I we do not consume much. The washing machine is old and our car is going on fifteen, yet it starts but of course we no longer use it as often as before. This makes us poor consumers the ads on TV are not aimed at us. Today we bought a new TV, this pleased my wife it made her feel important and the shop staff called her madam. Assist death, the ultimate triumph of capitalism as those who cannot consume are redundant. The last expense is the casket, even here capitalism is pressuring relatives to buy an expensive one, no one will see unless attend the funeral. But as for now we are safe the new TV will keep us safe.

A Handcart and a Ring A man I knew had a handcart and became self- employed I often saw him in the town having a load of parcels and sometimes pieces of furniture, he was a contented man. One day on his way to the railways station one wheel of his cart came off and four suitcases fell into the street. So what to do? Traced his steps and soon found the missing pieces that keep the wheel on the axle, but he also found an expensive diamond ring which he put in his pocket as he was occupied with fixing the wheel and get his load of suitcases to the railway station In the paper, he read about a lady who had lost a dear ring, he contacted her via the paper and she was very happy, but didn’t give him anything because as she said honesty is a natural thing and should not be rewarded. The people at the paper thought this too mean for words made a collection and handed the kind man the money. A Picture of him and his cart the paper and a nice story for the paper to sell. And when too old to push his cart around he became a poet of the small things in life and not the life of aristocrats