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Bernard's Page
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Bernard Lord is a retired GP and a founder- member of the Writers’ Block. He says writing has become a source of enjoyment and strength during a lengthy period of ill health, replacing his former passion for climbing. He writes poetry, stories and memoirs. One of his vignettes was short listed for the Fish prize in 2009. Here are some poems from two of his collections published by Through the Mill. His poetry has recently appeared in Decanto, French Literary Review and Fire International and Pulsar. |
Grease
Like déjà vu it never ceases to call you back. That fat, round
tub of Brylcream brashness: “A little dab’ll do ya.” You can
smell those days crouched in cafes all creamed up as jukebox
juries. It gelled together big band sound and cha-cha-cha, bee-
bop, jive and twist ’n shout. Friday nights have lost bravado:
pilgrim routes wincklepickered of their Mecca.
Its benediction no longer marinates on armchair backs, velvet
collars or glides along the High Street. Creepers, man, this
beeswax mix seeped in every nook and cranny, really tied ya
down. I mean, sliding doors. And look. Unscrewed, the thick
flow of bubble gum that clings tight as glue
(Ratios of Approximation, Through the Mill, 2009)
Lost in Transit
The Viennese Regulator hung at the foot
of the stairs, keeping reliable watch over
family life. I used to wind him up daily
before breakfast. Charming manners. I
could tell by the look on his mahogany
buffed face. Never harmed a soul.
He’d wink as I set out for school, whirr
and chime as soon as I returned; pronounce
the hours as appropriate, work fingers
to the bone ticking off the time; even
borrow a few minutes to suspend my
deadline for bed.
An estate agency now where rooms
face south in the mornings and buyers
bid for built-in dreams, en-suites
and triple glazing.
Home-cooked meals, a timepiece, black
and white TV, transistor radio – redundant
Family Favourites. We removed
elsewhere
and something disappeared.
Pawned or auctioned. They never said.
I never asked.
(Ratios of Approximation, Through the Mill, 2009)
Almost tomorrow
I’m at the outer
limits
reality is too much
the sunsets sensational
flowers blaze rainbows
seas roller-coasting
zinc white spray
in a cerulean sky
I’m on the outside
left the fold, gone, eyeing
you eyeing me –
almost spirit
still here living
a grief
(In a Cerulean Sky, Through the Mill, 2002)
Bernard Lord’s poetry pamphlets, Ratios of Approximation and In A Cerulean Sky like can be ordered from Jocelyn Simms £5.50 for the two including p&p, or by clicking on the "Add to Cart" button below
