i live about forty miles from London in a place called Basingstoke, Hampshire. I have published some seven collections of poetry and have about a thousand poems floating around the web. But more important to me is if someone I don't know were to send me an email telling me they were moved by my work.
As I sat in the sun on the bench
a woman came
and sat close to me.
"Does anybody mind if I smoke?"
I said i didn't.
Later I got a desire to ask her
if she would mind if I took my trousers off.
'You see I like to get some sun on my legs.'
Imagine what life would be like if you said
all these things that run around up there.
You would be free.
I can't help but think
there is some chancer
standing outside the gates of heaven
trying to make some money.
Hey guy, why don't you buy the 'gifted genius package', I can let you have it for fifty - after all, who wants to work in an office for forty years, get put in a care home by their kids, then wait to die, come on what do you say?
I don't know what package i got
but i want my money back.
I lie back and shut my eyes
but I know the people are still there.
I cannot feel them
but I can hear them.
The old man telling the stories
about the houses falling down in the fifties.
The woman who touched my arm
and complained because we got our food before her.
The couple out to celebrate an anniversary
or some conjoining.
The drunk party shouting obscenities
just over from the kids.
And when I open my eyes
they will still be there,
these living statues
that hold life within themselves —
But so very deep now —
so very deep.
Should I Stay or Should I Go Now
Sometimes I feel like walking out the door
and running away.
I don't know where I would go
or what I would do
What I would eat or what I would drink.
I don't think anybody would take me in
and look after me
I couldn't blame them.
I tried it once before
but there were no takers
I was younger then but had no belief
Now I have the belief
but very little else.
I looked down at the pavement,
saw a small snail on the ground.
I got worried about him
so I picked him up,
put him by the wall where he would be safer.
Maybe I had changed his fate
or maybe i had changed my own.
©2015 Marc Carver