Koan on Boredom

At sunrise
the man asked the boy
to hold his bag

It is very light,
the boy replied.

As the sun westered
the boy complained
of the bag’s
unbearable weight.

but there is nothing
in the bag
the man replied.



© Graham Sherwood 06/2015

Early Morning with BB

We startle unseen pigeons
that ask who? Who?
from their camouflage
then wince at the
slap clap flap
of their ungainly launch
clattering through broad leaves.


Through the old village
quiet still, just
the smell of fresh toast
and the whistle of a kettle,
Damp moss steams
on the old cemetery wall
BB points a finger, frowns and says oooff!.


On the quieter path
the lake breeze exhales
to make the teasels bristle
leaning in unison
to whistle and hum
brown heads tilted
in a gospel choir rhythm.





© Graham Sherwood 06/2015

Koan on Being

In the theatre of the world
one man may play all the characters.
How can we be sure his true self
is really on the stage at all?



© Graham Sherwood 06/2015

Oxford St

(Inspired by TS Eliot)

Damp mist circles my legs
swirling, as a creature,
wet nose sniffing me
as if to approve my suitability
for passage.
Under the meagre streetlamps
the dampness hangs lank
like fine muslin,
I pause mindlessly
to await the next pedestrian
then gingerly move away
my freedom gained.
Before the corner, I glance back
to see the vague silhouette
trapped within the fussing mist
and no other in sight.
The bright-lit boulevard
feels a safer place,
the incandescent shop fronts
valiant, spear the mist with
savage goring rents,
its threadbare banners
cast about the damp path.


© Graham Sherwood 06/2015

M-e-n-U

I bring bread, wine, meat and sweet berries
and lay them on your kitchen table.
Both unsure, we fidget,
you busily preparing food
me clumsy, with a troublesome cork.
I risk a glance at your easing profile,
you, amused by my fumbling efforts
offer a welcome sympathetic smile.
Midnight,
and the wine has wrestled with our tongues,
so talk rides lightly on spicy breath
eyes stay camouflaged by stained glasses,
in purdah,
water stays untouched.
Now is the tricky stage, and
one of us needs to make a move,
there is no bill to pay
so both unsure, we fidget once more
and await the telling signal.



© Graham Sherwood 06/2015