With all of the vocabulary
In French or English dictionaries
It's hard to find the lexical key
To talk about our group of three
How can a phrase or paragraph
Describe the times that we have laughed,
That we have danced and gone off script
That we have twirled, or jumped or skipped
The moments when we broke the rules
With meals on sofas after school
The rainy days you stayed inside
And dressed like little princess brides
The stories shared upon my knees
The many menus from our deep freeze
The secrets stored and then revealed
The veggies left after your meals
The homework finished in a huff
Revision time never enough
The songs performed, guitar and drum
Making me a prouder mum.
Friends to stay here over night
Thus diluting the sibling fights
Clothes to choose, new bags new shoes
Some questions over whose are whose
All these moments that we share
Are answering all of my prayers
A life of love and fun to nurture
I have found and need not search for.
Slow down the moment, breathe it in
See the floating filaments
of microscopic things.
Taste on your lips the salt on the wind.
Hear every sound, feel everything.
And in the case you hit record,
These fleeting memories can be stored.
How many moments passed me by in a flash?
And what was more important,
than to make them last?
But needy, greedy time absorbs you
in your prime
As a hungry hurricane,
destroys the hourglass,
grain by grain,
Flattening the days in its wake.
Yes, time cannot be faked.
Only, to be present in each second,
Is a force with which it will reckon.
The day you first pronounced that word You crowned me, Giving me the best title I'd ever heard
'Grandma', You say this with some passion Sometimes in almost desperate fashion As if you need to be rescued
When this word is most used, You're waiting to be scooped up And may have recently refused To comply
You and I A new duo Me and Juno
When I go out of a room I hear you 'Mam mar' Not wanting to be left out Of whatever adventure I'm on
Because yes, when we are together Every small thing we do, whatever is a special occurrence a big new experience A happening With you, thereareno little things
In the sandy shadow of the beige fronted buildings I pass Sometimes lost in a shady labyrinth, of narrow paths A confusing shortcut making a wrong turn Spilling me then into crowds of Saturday shoppers Newly trendy vendors selling specialities in street art squares Places to be where freshly brewed coffee perfumes the air
Born again quarters named after new tram stops Ushering in gentrification with organic food shops
Despite its many changes of direction This street map holds on to my affection
Only I can see the tracing paper layer of where I see the traces of moments of our lives in places
The cartography of my memories overlay Coordinates that my heart strings play Etched in the air, as I turn that corner there As if sketched on a layer of see-through paper The image of a memory’s trailing vapour Of a moment, years ago, at this exact location
Sharing books with one you love, talking of books you have loved and lived through their characters now in you.
The rifling through colourful covers almost coveting their re discovery
That one, takes you back always a girl when inside those pages, the person you were whatever your age was when that story first inhabited you, as it still does now
Making you up made of that book, now it takes one you love into it’s embrace its story never to be erased
This one, stirs your heart with an almost love sick yearning to be turning back time to be the one first opening it’s chapter one but knowing now, it will capture one you love, who will follow your footsteps down this path to you, getting closer.
These four letters spell your name. Meaning love, and that I will never be the same.
Juno, a sound, that sets off cascading stars bright sunlight, flocks of birds, flowers bursting into bloom, just at the thought of you.
Juno, how my heart is full.
The possibility of fun now endless. On the floor in piles of toys, making a mess With you, it’s all new.
When you smile at me I am invested with special powers. When you reach for me I am chosen. When you look at me, I am rich. When you laugh I am drunk, with happiness.
When you hold me I want you to stick, like glue. Juno you have made me new.
Juniper,
Two bright berry eyes
Staring, round at me
Amused easily
Top lip curling into grin
Tiny double chin
Open mouthed in glee
Staring up from my knee
Ready for a new small adventure
And egging me on
Intensely
Juno, I know
A world of perfection
In an imperfect world
Who wants a lift
When you can do this
When you can take a whiff
Of the scents of leaves underfoot
When you can sniff the air
Feel the softest breath of the breeze on your skin
Feet sinking into soft pathways
Freshly made by the morning rain
For too long I didn't know
Nothing is better than a slow stroll
Close to the river's ebb and flow
A tree canopy so close it looks like a stroke
Of green feather dusters
wiping the sky clean
Of clouds
It's sharp blue astonishing
Clear of all but the yellow rays of sun
Reflected artfully in window panes
Duplicated on the rippled surface
Glimpsed between dancing plants
As I glance
On my way past, in rapt attention.
Chosen for their character
they made themselves at home
stretching out roots
filling pots and overflowing over tops
Yawning into morning
grown into their spaces
and transforming,
ordinary corners
Into colourful collections
Taking up odd poses
adorned with dewdrop jewellery
small bohemians draped in spiderweb scarves
and, sharing a space with guests of other species
Holding an afternoon yoga session
together communing, green and bright,
then craning, towards the retreating evening light.
Is chat GPT bad at poetry or is it me?
Does it have to rhyme to record my feelings
at one time or another
To track what was important,
like an I woz ere graffiti from the 80's
AI IS here
accelerating what we now know,
exacerbating my nostalgia,
for an era we once knew,
a slow time.
When you’d simultaneously press play and record hearing that song you liked on the radio
that clunk summed it up
the clumsy effort, to be rewarded with a proper play back loop
Not a fake feedback loop
Back when scarcity of information and an itch for knowledge made us visit the library
to use microfiche
green writing filling a screen full of satisfying curiosities.
Searching shelf by shelf to get knowledge
Following the clues all the way to the copy machine
The world was in a book
The world book
A case of knowledge,
we took the time to digest.
A slow life to be lived
whilst gently polluting as if we knew nothing of it.
