Category Archives: Silly-Savvy Poems

Thoughts

Composed whilst partaking of a recovery pot of tea in a Prado Lounge Café Bar. Banish the thoughts of others thinking. The only thoughts that matter are your own. Thoughts – for the taking. Copyright owned by Jay Cool, September 2018

Portrait in Middle Age

Inspired by portrait of a middle-aged gentleman, on display in a Prado Lounge Café Bar (artist’s name unknown by poet!). Portrait in Prado Lounge Café Bar, Suffolk (artist unknown) Sons born. Some gone. Dead. Daughters birthed, raised up, married, survived – or died in childbirth. Wife disillusioned, tired, but – still living. Job done. TimeContinue reading “Portrait in Middle Age”

Lonely Hand

‘Hands Folded Woman’ image from Pixabay.com (Creative Commons) Lovers’ hands still holding on, gripped, suckered, stuck like the suckers on windows of wooden toy-shop arrows bought, aimed, fired, landed, then pulled off, popped off; all leftover traces of once-was washed off without regard by a sloppy window cleaner. And a note shared through a door;Continue reading “Lonely Hand”

Gainsborough’s Market

I catch a glimpse of Gainsborough’s knee. Brush and palette above it stand floating. Protruding. A man at war, with gun to kill – half-cocked – not ready. He hesitates a while – allows other men to do the job in hand. He watches, thinks, but feels unable to run. Feet frozen, tailcoat stuck. Committed.Continue reading “Gainsborough’s Market”

Falling Backwards

  Felixstowe, Suffolk No. Not in this car. Not in an 1100cc Ford Escort. It’s not a hill we’ll ever make our way up to the front. Us kids in the back – we’ll fall back down, slip backwards – disjointed. Whilst our parents; our mother, and our father at the wheel carry on upContinue reading “Falling Backwards”

Botanist Approaching Fifty

‘Flowers in Hartlepool’ by Jay Cool Do a project, the teacher said. You can choose the title. Spend some time, just with your friend, reading books and writing. We collected books, ’bout every flower, copied, coloured, outlined them. About each flower, I remember nothing – no name, no colour, no hue. But, if I could,Continue reading “Botanist Approaching Fifty”