I do not fear the passing years
any more than I fear the passing days
which is to say, I hide my tears
and fail to address my failing ways.
verse
The Wren-Boys by Carol Ann Duffy
A new Christmas poem by Carol Ann Duffy:
The attempt
It’s still early
the lids are heavy
the locks are loose
not content
struggling to contain
the contents
standing aloof
left to choose
what stays
what goes
this harsh cold evening
Prey
Pray
Tell me how
in the here and now
what actions, words or deeds
sow the seeds
of love or hate or greed
in the hearts of others
are they not my brothers?
Tell me
Pray
Comfort and joy
Making good progress
as I regress up the road towards a childhood
of frozen toes
The grounds are empty but for the white blanket
embracing the slope and the winding path
No longer an uphill struggle on mornings like this
to remember the fun to be had
from frozen toes
Unwritten
If only I could write like Glenn Patterson
nothing else would matter then
need not rejoice in the ghost of James
coursing through my veins
as Samuel rests and downs his pen
the sheets lie empty, then
I curse his name and cry
“feck it!”
the jericho roads 