Down The Lane

As luscious-lime hedgerows turn jaunty ginger
and smooth-slick skin turns furrowed and fusty,
you remain true. Still there. My trusty friend;
the comforting memory of a waft-warm drink.
Still there. Trusty. A trusty friend very thoughtfully
placed. Knowing that that my friend knows me,
I smirk; a joke shared. Throat parched, I wait
for jaunty ginger to give way to icy topping,
knowing that if I wait for long enough, the icy
topping will melt into saucy slush.

Thirst abated.

Copyright of poem and photo owned by Jay Cool, January 2019

Not Enough

‘Morning Walk’ photograph by Jay Cool

Not enough dreams or sunsets, not enough full moons or early morning walks, not enough laughter to pave the journey, not enough poetry or stories, or enough time to write one’s own, not enough blankets to keep in the thoughts, or enough of anything that is enough. But, nevertheless, the imagination continues to expand and to grow out and beyond of all of the not enoughness, even though, even this poem is not enough for all of the not enough of us.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, January 2019

Inspired by ‘So Many’, by John Pluecker.

Wild Thing

Do I have to be a something to be a something to be remembered?
Will the world carry on ahead, with all the somebodies who have been something?
Is that something?
Am I something?
Is it something just to be me?
Wild.
Wild in a wilderness of somebodies.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, January 2019
Inspiration taken from the poem ‘Wild Geese’ ,by Mary Oliver

 

A Second Referendum

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

‘twould open up a deep rift,
deep, deep as the deepest sea,
and great swathes of sentient beings,
‘twould be swept up into a humungous tidal wave,
ripped apart from Corbyn, for ever more, more, more …

until ….

a great sandstorm would blow in from Europe,
falling, deep, deep, into the deepest rift of Great Britain,
echoes of Mind the Gap fading, fading, fading into the great Earth,

until …

overflowing the sand would drift into the vast seas,
piling up, setting and sealing, as beings walk again – across bridges
to greet their fellow peoples, all shades of skin blending into each other,

until …

strengthened by the colour of sand,
the Earth spins
as one.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, Jan 18, 2019

Written to support a call for a Second Referendum.

The Geography of Myself

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

Myself has migrated,
leaving hints of itself,
in old towns and locations,
where it used to be.

In the dirt floor of a sandstone cave,
in the soil of a grandfather’s vegetable garden,
in the cracks of a concrete driveway,
in the drains of a tarmacked road,
and in the corners of an abandoned removal van,
in Shropshire.

In the anchor ropes of docklands,
in the pebbles of beaches,
in the bread swept up by a seagull’s cry,
in the tread of a fisherman’s boots,
in the echoes of a preacher’s rant,
in every town,
all round the coast
of Britain

is a hint of myself.

Now, myself settles awhile,
in the red bricks of suburbia,
in the river banks of the Stour,
in the squelch of a water-logged meadow,
in the fabric of purple chair,
in Suffolk.

Myself migrates
into myself
and out again.

Restless.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, January 2019


Inspiration taken from ‘One Geography of Belonging’ , by Kayleb Rae Candrilli.

Pointlessness

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Days escalate towards my end.
At the end, will I remember
me?
Is there a point?
Am I less or more than my end?
When did I start?
Will my end be like my start?
Forgotten?
Will I be less than the point of me?
Is less more?
A start?
Can I escalate backwards?
Back to my end?
An endless beginning?
A nothing to be remembered.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, January 2019
 
Inspiration taken from ‘Untitled’, by Maged Zaher.


Who is Jay Cool?

 

Free Movement

I had a dream.

A dream that moved me.
A dream about movement – about freedom.
The freedom to move; to be moving and maintaining;
maintaining one’s person in a public place:
peeling one’s toe nails in a business meeting;
picking one’s bogies whilst delivering a speech;
plucking one’s mole hairs in company with a neighbour on a bus;
passing wind in a queue for a Wimpy beanburger;
popping a spot when trying out a sofa in DFS;
poking a finger in a waxy ear;
picking, plucking and poking away at an impotent plan, until it loses its appeal, pops
and passes.
Pungent.
This day.
A country, pulled into itself,
pulled back out.
Righted.
Moving.


Copyright owned by Jay Cool, January 15th, 2019

Inspired by a vote of against the British PM’s Brexit plan, and by the poem ‘Plan Upon Arrival’ by Saretta Morgan.

Who is Jay Cool?

 

 

Rooted Toe

Six inches of snow predicts my toe,
then tells me to purchase fur boots.
I’m not one to argue,
after all my toe’s gone through,
with a message sent up from my roots.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, Jan 2019

Inspiration taken from a reading of Robert Frost’s
‘Winter Lull’.

Me is More

 

‘Prairie Dog’ courtesy of Pixabay.com

If my lover loved me fully
Wore my poems in her hair
I would play for her a love song
I know she wouldn’t care

My flat notes would be tuneful
The twanging strings so cool
She’d look at me as in a dream
N’er take me for a fool

It’s good I have a mirror
It’s all I really need
I see myself and all is well
My love is true indeed

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, January 2019


Inspiration taken from ‘This Much and More’ ,by Djuna Barnes.


Who is Jay Cool?



A Rushed Ending

‘Beach’ courtesy of Pixabay.com

time circling itself
each round of the circle getting smaller
each weekend seeming shorter
passing quicker than
the one before
until

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, January 2019


Inspiration take from ‘Mexicans Lost in Mexico’ by Nico Amador.



Who is Jay Cool?