Hammers (A trilogy)

Hammered

The hammer is inside my head,
it's a never ending drum beat
that is my husband, berating me.

As he his key turns in the lock
my blood pressure
rises.

He'll check the wallpaper
for marks that the children
may have made.

He'll demand I keep them quiet,
take them away,
control them.

They are only toddlers
and I have only

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poem by Ruth Walters
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Pocket fairytales....a trilogy

A Pocket Fairytale

He sat in a white van
with no working handbrake,
similar to his temper, with no stopper.
He'd no tax and no money.

What he'd salvaged from life
was an old mattress,
a few old clothes, a fancy chair
and a pot plant.

The door to her house
was bolted, several times
just like the seven chances she'd given him
and the neighbours curtains were twitching.

There was oil leaking from the engine
just like his bleeding heart
and the rear light didn't work

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poem by Ruth Walters
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Pressure

There was a kind of pressure, in the room,
I mean, it wasn't anything tangible but it was there
and he looked about him to try to spot the culprit.

A suspicious character was drinking brandy,
he could certainly be the one, but wait,
there she was, a tall red head with hawk like eyes.

They looked at each other and then she crooked her finger,
"yes… you" she mouthed! "Come here, talk to me"
He slowly walked towards her, settling at her side.

"It's cold for the time of year", he whispered.
"Not cold enough" was the coded reply.
Then she took out a yellow glove from her bag.

"When are you going to introduce me? " she asked
"That's right, " she said, "I'm from the ministry"
and I want you to act as though we're old friends.

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poem by Ruth Walters
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