The Blues (Sorrow Poem)
Montana shoeshine man has dirty shoes,
Billie sings “That Ole Devil Called Love”,
The sun is shining but rain falls over me.
Occasional internet frustrates all work,
Every problem is someone else’s fault,
A Groundhog Day of daily tasks undone,
The black dog is with me in this place.
Is it me or is it them I ask myself again?
Today I cannot even die enough to cry-
Guess it’s those old Haiti Blues again.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Murder (Life Poem)
Looking to snooze on AA922 to Miami today
Little monsters scream all the way for fun
Seat kicking for exercise and expression
Murder in mind as red wine spills on shirt
Wishing it was little darlings’ blood instead
Open the door and take them wing walking
Angry parents complain for some reason
Perhaps because I did not bring them back
Now sleeping, no apologies, dreaming that
Business Class minimum age the best policy.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Failing to Fly (Life Poem)
When I was just seven years old.
I believed that I could run as fast
As a plane which was flying slow,
And so small, and high in the sky.
But my runway was short, and I
Ran out of road, and into a van,
The driver was laughing, at my
Failure to fly, without any wings.
But for the van, I believe that I would
Have flown up in the sky, but instead
I just ran away, so that was the last
Time I tried to take off from a road.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Winter Light (Love Poem)
The words that express the love from last year’s man
Warming the watery cold light of a winter morning
Expectant that flight will fill a cold bed with warmth
‘Soon’ is an empty word until ‘now’ arrives with a hug.
Dark mornings brighten the warm glow of waking
Interrupted slumber forgiven in comfort of closeness
Together in a time that is always too short for want
Magic touch soothes away the cares of the world.
poem by Ian Beckett
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The Look (Love Poem)
In a moment she catches my eye,
The glance, the quiet smile for me,
I know the look, it was all it took,
For Cupid’s arrow to find it’s mark.
Sometimes after breakfast coffee,
And maybe after lunchtime snack,
And often after romantic dinner,
She looks at me and then I know.
That life is good and we are right,
And all the problems of the light,
Will be put to rest in bed tonight,
With just a look my fears take flight.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Holiday (Life Poem)
Perfected spending ideal day off
Prepared a hot breakfast in bed
Procrastinated Java or Columbia
Perused the paper cover to cover
Perplexed prayer over crossword
Pampered by bath-time bubbles
Phoned almost forgotten friends
Purchased Murakami on Amazon
Polished off a lunchtime martini
Postponed exercise with siesta
Perambulated the beach slowly
Pushed the boat out for dinner
Preferred Barolo to Barbaresco
Panicked - work again tomorrow.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Paranoid Android (Sorrow Poem)
Depressed and bored but not paranoid at all
Marvin had all the solutions for the Universe
But he was sad, with a billion years of boredom
Waiting tables nightly at the End of the Universe
While awaiting the arrival of his Heart of Gold.
We meet our paranoid Marvins every day
Friendless beings fearing mortal threats
From us, the great unwashed human herd
Suspecting everyone, enemies everywhere
Unconscious of their need for a real hug today.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Reality TV (Life Poem)
Dinner, Dafney hot, courtyard cool and civilized,
Fettuccini fabulous, guest glamorous and glowing,
Eyes starlike smiling, pulpo carpaccio savoured.
Reality will bite in next week’s jungle game.
Imagination runs riot, perfect picture of dinner
For ants, ambling in forbidden places, ouch.
Coiffeurless, bad-hair-day, dishevelled demon,
Boredom, book, arachnophobia perhaps, escape.
Red carpet missed, pampering needed, tranquilo.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Chisinau (Life poem)
Slendiforous girls in their sexy summer clothes,
Their stilettos strutter on the sticky hot streets,
Knowing you are distractible by catwalk curves,
The streets a clutteration of Volgas and Volvos.
Breakfast harpist plays muzak in the morning,
Makes my ham and eggs strangely indigestible,
And lobby designer shops jarringly bankrupt,
Tartan uniforms match carpet in the "Irish" bar.
Just another comfortabulous hotel home, again
poem by Ian Beckett
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Christmas Party (Life Poem)
Monday party night with Mad Fish and friends
Conversations buzz of annual friends' reunion
Christmas cheer as enemies are friends again
Complex confabulations as wine wisdom flows
Midnight truths all revealed in vino veritas
Eccentrics leave early, party animals at dawn
Tuesday late unslept sleeping son on Dart
Brains slow to restart despite espresso kick
Hangover no handicap to present-wrapping
Inbox full from friends Happy Holidays hellos.
poem by Ian Beckett
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