Category: story

MY MOTHER’S FRIEND

MY MOTHER’S FRIEND

My mother’s friend had long yellow hair,
Her eyes so blue, they gave me
A shock of delight whenever she looked at me,
As if a Gentian was flowering in her smile.

I loved her very much
And thought she had probably escaped
From a story book.
Turning the pages over so fast,
She was flipped into the real world.

Some great artist had drawn her,
Made her as beautiful as they could
Then set her free.

The thing I liked best was to stare at her
For as long as I was allowed to.
For as long as she would let me.
Until my mother frowned me
Into remembering my manners,
Reminding me it was unkind to stare.

All the same, I quietly held
A peck of her skirt,
A pinch of her jumper,
Just to make sure that if she
Did change back into her fairy story

She would have to take me with her.

                                          ©2023 Gwen Grant

THE MATHEMATICS OF LOVE

  

THE MATHEMATICS OF LOVE

History is like a shed
We can shelter in
When present life is tough,
And the future
Doesn’t look up to much, either.

Mathematics is like a shed
We can shelter in
When nothing in our life adds up,
And the sum of love
Equals a big fat nothing

Hope is like a shed
We can shelter in,
For Hope is always at home
With the kettle on.
This is a good shed to live in.

The mathematics of love
Are always the same.
Love plus love equals love,
Until the sum of love adds up
To hope for us all.

Children first.

                               © 2017 Gwen Grant

TIGER IN THE NIGHT

    TIGER IN THE NIGHT

 There’s a tiger

At the bottom

Of the garden.
 

Sitting in the middle

Of the apple tree,

Pale green leaves

Curling all around him,

Small green apples

Tapping his bright body
.

He waits for nightfall,

Padding quietly

Through the darkness

To me, where I sit,

Sleepless, by the window.

His claws rattle

On my heart.

Ripping away my defences,

Bringing sadness,

Doubling up on sorrow.

The night has gone,

Here comes the dawn

With the bright tiger leaping

Into the brighter sun,

Flowering the apple tree’s

Small blossoms of love.

My eyes close

And I sleep.

      ©2023 Gwen Grant

KEEP MOVING ON

KEEP MOVING ON 

Move on to the next immovable object
And failing to move it,
Go around it or go through it,
Move on. 

Bang your head against a brick wall,
Stub your toe on the floor,
Catch your hand in that fast closing door,
Move on. 

Leave behind the broken heart,
Absorb the hurt.
Make a new start,
Move on. 

Because over the horizon
There will be a new day,
A new sun,
And even if there isn’t,
Even if there is storm and darkness,
And the sun has set and long since gone,
Move on. 

For you’re here and whilst you’re here,
Filled with fury, love and passion,
Give it another go.
Leave yourself wide open,
Take it in your stride.
Though you may hesitate and you may falter,
Regroup, reform, return,
Live life to the full and learn
To move on. 

                                   © 2018 Gwen Grant