The Poems I Have Not Written.
I am outside late at night
writing poems
about the poems
I have not written
the ones I’ve shied away from
because of embarrassment
or timidity
or , worst of all, for fear
that I might offend
and find
somewhat alarmingly
that the poems I have not written
Far outnumber those I have
A Little More
I think it’s okay to want a little more.
A little more love.
A little more applause.
That second glass of red.
Another night in paradise with you.
We were not built for abstemiousness.
We have gullets, appetites.
It does not mean excess.
A modicum of more will do.
Don’t throw away your old stuff.
You will never have enough
new material to work with;
writing can be tough.
Put away your frail and flaccid.
put it in a book.
And in an idle moment, open it,
lighten up, have a look.
Give it iron, backbone,
a new voice, beat
find it a new form.
Let the old be reborn.
Everything will have its place.
Everything its time
the giddy, garrulous, the gruff.
Don’t throw away your old stuff..
Sometimes
my poems
look
like this:
speckled,
blotchy.
left too long,
overdone;
should have served them up
fresh,
still young
I look for him everywhere .
In supermarkets , shopping malls ,
along the esplanade where he
hangs out .
Have you seen Milton ? I ask .
But no one has .
Not lately .
Suddenly I need him
this gnome of a man
with the grey goatee .
Milton the Gatekeeper
hoarding the knowledge
like bullion .
Like Diogones with his lamp
I scour the streets
with my headlights
looking for Milton .
I was halfway through the dishes when a call of nature distracted me.
When I resumed I could not find the tea towel anywhere. Where’s it gone? I said.
It’s on your shoulder, my partner laughed & there is was, dangling like a limp flag.
Made me think of that line from ‘Hey Jude’ , ‘the movement you need is in your shoulders’
& I thought, that’s it! that’s the answer: not carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders like Atlas
but shouldering your way through difficulties, so they part before you like the Red Sea did for Moses.
I opened up a soft drink —
You know how it is —
One already opened
but it had lost its fizz.
It had lost its zest.
It had lost its tang.
It had lost its bite
& worse, had lost its bang!
So hang onto your hat.
Enjoy life’s gee whiz.
You gotta be where it’s at.
& Never lose your fizz.
Someone once said to me, Expect the Unexpected.
It seemed daring at the time so I took it on board.
The only problem was because I expected the Unexpected all the time I wasn’t really surprised when it happened.
It was expected, right?
Life was losing its surprise factor.
I felt heavy as a watermelon.
My counsellor suggested — wait for it — Expect only the Expected.
So I do,
When the Unexpected happens I light up like a lantern
twinkle like a star.
It wasn’t expected, right?
Something niggles you
All week
Like a nail
in yr shoe
And you put up with it
That’s what
You do.
And then it’s all over
In two minutes
Flat
and you wonder
hey! why did I
Ever worry that?
But listen up! here’s
the sting:
The very thing
You gave no thought
to at all
burdens you all week
like an extra ball
in yr pants.
Life is brief.
Loosen up. Don’t worry.
Dance
It simply is not true.
You can’t eat your cake
And have it too.
I tried it once.
It does not work.
Someone always ends up hurt.
Take a slice maybe two.
Leave some for others too.
And if the cake
is truly sound.
There should be enough
To go around.
John Malone 