OF COURSE THERE WAS SMOKE

I don't have much to say about this poem as I think it's quite self explanatory. I will say that if you can find a copy of any of the Uncle the Elephant books then read them, you won't be disappointed.

THE PRIZE GIVING

There we were in the bookshop

you me and the book seller

That celebration evening

the end of our three years study

It could have been a dream

some bibliophiles best fantasy

We huddled in the backroom

of course there was smoke

an ember passed from hand to hand

and then another

In honour of the occasion

we decided to award ourselves prizes

[in other less colourful circles

I think they call it stealing]

You chose Gunter Schuller on jazz

such a thick tome

Serious

so at odds with our evening

My eye fixed on Uncle the Elephant

a particular warm memory of my childhood

I have it still

the pages aged and yellowed

I read it to my children

but did not tell them how I acquired it

This is the first draft I am prepared to exhibit. It may change. Watch this space.

I watched the Judee Sill documentary the other day. It was both amazingly beautiful and very sad. 

Until next time.