Departure Lounge
whilst waiting
on inauspicious days
for flights
the Angel of extreme unease
whispers to the departees
things they wouldn't wish to hear
like 'pilot error'
and ' faulty landing-gear'
and they see his shadow cross the wall
in the terminal
at the final call
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Paperback
' dust at the side of the road '
the story writes itself
in however how many pages it may take
it can feel your pulse-rate rise
and enters through your skin
it is a very fine dust
slides easy off the page
then grain by grain by grain
it burrows deeper in
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Blurrsville
such a journey
looking out from our carriage
on this train
it's blurrsville
'cos we're going too fast
they're just reflections in your eyes
and you reach out
attach stickers to the window
titles of old songs
for me
fragmented verses half-remembered tunes
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Kyoto old-town
lunch in the Old-Town
flown in six thousand miles
to see through a half-open door
him sullen
peeling potatoes
crouched on the red-tiled floor
he sees the bulge of my wings
beneath my coat
and sighs
Kyoto Spring is chilling
as the egg-yolk breaks and fries
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Autumn
white flowers
shadows 'gainst a white wall
all colour spent
here we hesitate
haven't the nerve
to bring to mind
that which we might find
behind a curtain in another room
traces of an old perfume
they turn away
we deflect thoughts
of what it is too late to say
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Nowhere To Hide
in the optician's chair
before the wallchart-game
unexpectedly there came the ask
for him to remove his mask
then to complete a questionnaire
phobias proclivities after-dark activities
instances of flying wearing tights
Cripes!
Batman realised his cover was blown
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Tennis
consenting adults
stand face to face
is it so pointless
so with utmost good-taste
oh how soon it occurred
'twas served from above
along came that word
and love's heaped on love
to give and receive
it causes less pain
and nought has no place
when it's only a game
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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TThe Piano
at the Music Festival
he'd arrived late
weary after a long flight
and at Reception the piano-tuner waits
with his instruments of torture
the check-in lady smiles
then what she did
she must have known
'Ah oui Monsieur Trombone'
and he responded
by slightly raising his lid.
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Armless In Camera
a speck of shadow
blazes across her marble breast
from East to West
as Venus crosses the sun
and profoundly deep inside the digital pixelways
even the delet button can't erase
what's there to stay
mirrors the essential obscurity
of her flaunting that which she can't display
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Out-There
morning
camel-herders
money-changers
things from outer-space
hullabaloo and shindig
jostling at the gates
sense I've raised one eyelid
snapped shut
but it's too late
somehow reach the bathroom
reflect on my disguise
I'm shower-head and toothpaste
and soap gets in their eyes
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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