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.
I look through the window of the woman next door as I pass.
Her light is on
and she is turned away from me.
There is an honesty in a woman
who does not know she is being seen.
She ties her hair at the back
like a Hopper painting without the colors.
I pass the picture
and she never knows I was there.
It is all there
there at the bottom
all the pearls
all the diamonds.
They are all down there
waiting for you.
All you have to do
is dive to the bottom
to see them all.
The two young girls swing back and forth
on the swings in the park.
They are laughing and can't ever see life changing.
Higher and higher they go—
nothing can stop them—
And in a strange way
I really hope life stays like that for them.
I saw the old man
walk over and bend down in the car park.
"Oh you found my money." I said to him as I passed.
"Yeah yeah," he said real sarchy-like.
His wife asked him how much.
"Five pence," he said.
"Not even worth going down for." I told him--
...but I have been down for much less.
There used to be a coldness
in my heart
but now it is gone.
I don't know if it will come back
but I don't think so.
Some things leave for good:
They all go in the end—
perhaps to a new soul—
a new puzzle for someone else to solve...
Whoever has my hardness and coldness is welcome to it —
I don't want it back.
©2015 Marc Carver