Poem for the Day

A poem a day by Arthur J Plant

Posts tagged poetry

Jul 30

De-Eyeballing

I’ve got a knife, I’ve got a fork
I’ve got a bicycle’s tyre iron with a hook,
I’ve got painkillers,
this eyeball of my shoulder is coming out,
wiggling and jiggling, the optics peeling out
while it wiggles in panic and shock,
it doesn’t scream, it can’t
but I never wanted it
and I know it’s been watching
while I work, while I sleep, while I play
while cower in a corner of the coffee shop
trying not catch anyone’s eye
they can keep theirs
but I don’t want mine,
throw it on the floor and stamp hard
no more eyeballing.


Jul 29

Citizen Rat

We call them vermin,
the small shadows by the wayside,
but we’re no bigger then they are
scuttling around through the years
turning our lives away in the city
on a planet that’s been here
long before we were out for lunch,
judging each other over meals,
sniffing the same air,
we see ourselves so different
just for sitting at a table.


Jul 28

Charity Furniture

There is great love in old furniture,
battered tables and bruised chests
have not lost their dignity,
will still hold your world
and keep your secrets locked up tight
without pay, complaint, or due attention.

A chipped desk once shaped a mind,
a high chair helped begin a life,
a box painted with memories
for someone they were going to miss,
a stained table where the meal was shared.

For a scrappy ten pounds I took a chair
beaten and discoloured but good for sitting
creaking with the weight of many souls
hunched in dismay or excitement;
in front of their work, their game,
their colleague, friend, or lover,
for ten pounds I took all of this
hoping to add more.


Jul 27

Their Own Place

Everything finds it’s own place in the end
books on the shelves, shirts in the dresser,
loose documents you might need later
resting ready across a messy desk,
mementoes that you always take with you
lined in regiment over the fireplace no one uses,
stray socks and tangled wires under the bed
toys and nick-naks resting in the corners,
a soul in you breast, dreams in your head
laid peacefully on the pillow
wrapped up tightly in bed.


Jul 26

Empty Kitchen

An empty kitchen is filled easily,
a steady breeze rattling the ladles
hanging ceremoniously over the oven
that blinks and hums and drums the minutes
to call me to fill the plate
waiting to play with a knife and fork
drip drying near the sink
that gurgles satisfactorily.


Jul 25

Sit Down

Plant your butt down in the mess,
the clouds are here and there’s nothing left
of a halcyon day when much was done,
the wind massaging your neck
through an open window
inviting the bird song in,
get your head out of a spin.


Jul 24

Invader

I am an invader in this house
plethora of unfamiliar objects
seducing my curiosity
while the colours of walls
confuse my peripheral senses
feet recalibrating themselves
to a new specific texture of carpet
rules writing themselves
across the placement of cereal boxes,
I maneuver lightly, as I wary of traps
or of laying one myself.


Jul 23

Green Sea

The sunny foreign shores can keep their blue waters
I have now seen a sea of green
verdant with fauna waltzing with the flora
that turning tides have brought to show me,
crabs caressing the leaves taken from rocks
while anemones wave from the watery moss
and the silver darts watch from the long reeds
so deep they can only be seen under a high sun
trying to make something of the toes
wiggling and bounding their way around.


Jul 22

The Summer Melt

Couples stay in the shadows
the gentlemen keep their umbrellas
hats have become the new order
children walk slowly between doors
the police have no suspect to chase
the crime wave evaporated on the street
bronzing bodies stalking around café bars
selling more frappes but producing less talk
the shop is all sold out of water.


Jul 21

New Horizons

I am about to move to a new window
a new space offering new programming
documenting the world spinning easily by
the shadows of cats shifting on the walls
scored with the cackle of a couple
very much in love and keen to live it
different piles of garbage on the corners
making their presence known in a different way,
easy to dismiss the traffic as the same in shoes
the expert window observer looks further up
where the face and it’s tensions will always be found
in all different hues around the clock.


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