Poetry

Listen 

Listen. 

Listen, 

can you hear them? 

The sounds that went before 

the wall was built. 

Listen, 

I can hear them. 

Not the wall builders, 

no, not them, 

but others who also 

don’t want to see 

what lies beyond. 

What lies on the other side. 

Others who will build walls 

in the future. 

But listen,

we can hear them. 

Listen. 

Listen for when the cracks appear, 

then push.

Closed 

It was a beautiful village, 

the sun was shining, 

the mountain air pure, 

a perfect place for a coffee. 

We could see two cafes, 

but the first we tried was closed, 

closed for a while by the looks. 

The second looked hopeful 

with tables and chairs outside 

but the door was locked. 

An elderly man came over and explained. 

that it only opened at weekends.

The other had closed because 

the people had left the village. 

They all want to live in the town, 

he told us 

and now the houses are empty 

and there are just a few tourists 

who come at weekends to drink a coffee 

or a beer.

He told us to sit at a table 

and went into a house 

across the street 

and returned with a tray 

and three good French coffees 

made in his own kitchen. 

So we sat in the sunshine

breathing in the pure mountain air, 

a perfect place for a coffee 

with our new friend.

Such Nonsense 

We had a new teacher, 

a student still in college. 

He read us a long poem. 

I listened carefully trying 

to make sense of it. 

It was funny.

Was it meant to be funny? 

or was the laughter of derision, 

to what sounded like nonsense. 

Laughter seemed allowed 

and that was unusual. 

School was not a place for fun. 

Well, maybe it was nonsense 

but I loved the imagery 

and the colours of the words. 

I asked if 'pea green' was 

the colour of mushy peas 

from the chip shop,

or was it those in pods 

fresh from the garden. 

Nothing was clear, 

but it was fun.