Welcome

(I read today that there is a debate
over what to call these unfortunate people).


we hunt down refugees
fence off migrants
denounce clandestines
jail illegals
refuse asylum
expel exiles
but…
search the heavens
for an alien


© Graham Sherwood 08/2015

War of Words

I glimpse your dagger of sarcasm
kept honed for cutting remarks
and the poison pen hovering
above the letters that you craft,
its nib polished silver
a blade bleeding cruel ink.
Callous lies you wrap in tissue
masquerading as gifts of love
but each barbed with razor wire
ripping heart sinews like cotton wool,
silently, easily.
I am fast learning that my vocabulary
is too feeble, not battle ready,
hollow vowels seeking invisible consonants
to make their mark,
perhaps to spell the word
surrender.


© Graham Sherwood 08/2015

Now?

(my favourite was an eye).


What is the logo for now?
A word so fleet of foot
too short for measure
there being no future in its tense
and so easily lost to the past.
So what are you thinking now?



© Graham Sherwood 08/2015

Overview

(Clouds, always worth a look).


We discuss the sky often, both agog
under that unfathomable space,
that infinite openness
what else ought we call it?
some things have no need of a name
and sky seems such a paltry term
for such a boundless vista.
But how you scowl
when slate grey volcanoes puther
from unseen horizons, dark soot embryos
erupting to colour your view,
crashing over your head
prodding the ache of a frown
into one bilious migraine.
You know they’ll soon be gone
those busy inquisitive wraiths
but still let me shake a useless fist
and shout into their violent vacuum,
acting as your erstwhile champion
before sailor blues begin to reappear
in bandy-legged unison.



© Graham Sherwood 08/2015