Friday, 19 April 2013

The Opposite of the Blues

So here's today poem. Why? I wish I knew, but that's poetry for you. It's nice to have a poem without misery once in a while.

Best, Mark.

The Opposite of the Blues
Perhaps magnetic north has shifted
or El NiƱo
is benevolent now.
It may be a solar flare
firing rogue positively
charged neutrinos
but optimism,
the natural prey of the English
keeps finding  toeholds.
The evidence is stacking up;
the car starts first time
and on some mornings, so do I.
I was called Sir without
sarcasm or malice,
won a raffle, the ticket bought with guilt.
I don’t know what it all means but  
know enough not to question, but savour
when winds of fortune change.
I’m trying not to panic,
to give any hint this is anything
less than normal
the good table by the window
an upgrade accepted with practised courtesy
dessert on the house.
Those close start to notice
but don’t say it straight out.
Hugs are tighter
and come with sound effects.
Your picture is central
on the mantelpiece,
you are this week’s
favourite uncle,
Dad thinks about the word “proud”.
Your best friend’s wife’s kiss
after years of landing on the cheek
meets you on the lips, and lingers.


1 comment:

  1. Thank you for the poem without misery, though watch out for that last change . . .