This week we’re bringing you the first part of some remarkable poetry from Ray Morgan. You’ll be able to catch the next two poems the same time next monday.
New Year’s Resolution Gone Wrong
We forgot
about the packet of chocolate buttons
nestled
underneath the salad leaves
and grapes
and soya milk.
Our January health kick
is giving way to February
greed,
and takeaway pizza menus
parade on the fridge door
while we poke our fat bellies
and pretend to promise to get fit.
The buttons unearthed,
we gorge with builder’s tea
and say we will get better next week
as that is what Mondays are for.
But this is Thursday
and it’s been a hell of a week
and it’s one prawn bhuna
one lamb tikka
one pilau rice
one buttered chapati and
extra mint sauce.
I wait by the front door
and remember
that I have forgotten the padlock combination
to my folded away
foldaway bike.
Mist
I love it when there are
folded blankets of mist
hanging two feet from the dewy
ground,
moored and bobbing like
starched underblankets,
a child’s chalk line in the air.
Spiked grasses fail to puncture it
and saturated moss
has never been so protected,
sleeping underneath.
A burnished sun fights for attention,
touching the cold morning
with gold, forgiving fingers
reflected in the hungry eyes
of twenty-six reeling gulls,
spinning their way
towards Pitsea landfill site.
