**Diamond Hill**

No jewels were found on Diamond Hill
Only one lost there
And missing still.

Before time began a raven dropped a
Marble at the peak and chattered about
Loss so much the hill received its name.

Alienated Maizey, who owns and staffs
Leonard's, the only hardware store, tells
A different tale daily. She's good on
Diamond Hill.

She stocks stuff someone
In the world wet dreams about. Shovels
And sheaths, dinner plates, bowls and
Serving tureens.

Anything broken or lost,
(Apart from the self)
Can be replaced.

There never was a Leonard, he lives in no
One's memory. It was not China;
Even though it was white,
It was not; not quite.

#poem #poems #todayspoem

# Colin & 81

When you left the dance and were
Comfortably boxed at the cemetary
Gate, the Angels began their ride-bye,
Leathers glistening in the rain, choppers
Chanting a throaty RevTech Rock'n'roll.

You knew it was just a kiss away, a twist
Of the throttle to claw you into the murk
Of backstage, far from the spotlight; a
Lineage of neglect, tears, rage, betrayal.
The joy of a boy ground into a man's grit.

Those times you came North during the
Lost years, expectation framed in every
Pore; we drank and sang our songs through
The night, rapped until you fell over and I
Banked up the fire and watched your dreams.

Goggle eyes in the morning and tremors over
The muesli, a far cry from bejewelled youth;
Shameless begging for coffee. Something more
Than reticence; love flown away or ripened,
Crippled with a twisted limb, cleft and slouch.

Memory revives the glint of NHS specs, the
Pale fire of eyes searching the dark horizon,
Love letters from your cell at North Sea Camp.
That sense of beyond, an essence lingering
For half a line. Your everlasting taste of time.

Cataract

Swirling waters dim the lights and
The world cowers in an orchestra
Pit. Life is there flickering like
Drain flies on a window pane but
The sports field beyond vacates itself.

Texts set in serif or sans-serif shift
On the page; letters are twinned skaters
Skimming crystal pathways, led astray
Through sinking shades like morsels of
The infinite sensed in a cracked mirror.

The journey is halted by the loss of a
Kingdom; colour bleeds away, longings balance and
Sway and far off beyond the possibilties of vision
Some others come in sight. Dim but bright, and a
Future dark gives way to a couple trapped in light.

#todayspoem #poem #poems

**Black Hole, Filey Brig, Summer by the sea**

Empress and Queens pools were calm.
Queens was too shallow to swim. I could
Sit, skinny knees breaking the water line,
Warm air above and still
Below my hips.

We swam in Empress,
She stretched out before us, high cliffs
On three sides and the sea on the other.
She was a beaut.

The sun travelled millions of miles
Just to be by our side.
That's how it was.
Me
And Johnny Hobby, the sea and the sun.
We never saw another or heard a human voice.
Screeching gannets and puffins
Called, but there was never a scent of danger.

Black Hole
Was different, deafening, she was always
Angry; we skirted her with a margin wide
As the brim of a witch's hat
If we spoke it was with another's voice.
Get close to that fucker, she'd suck you off

The ledge with her briney foam, snatch you up
In a grasp of spindly fingers
Pound you against the rock like a meat slap
Tear skin, scatter bone;
Never come home.

#todayspoem #poetry #poem #filey #childhood

"I'm not intimidated by the dumb blonde jokes. Because I know I'm not dumb. And I'm not blonde." Dolly Parton.

#DumbBlonde #dollyparton #countrymusic #quote

Bisnonno

My great grandad was a big man who hid his
Two-hundred year old face behind a huge mustache
While he made gelato and poems in Rome.

He fought Napoleon III and one day was close enough
For a clean shot with his musket. He missed by a
Field and his medal for trying was lost in a flash.

He moved his family to Yorkshire. Made more gelato in a
Pan, added eggs and changed its name. Eventually bought a
New vat big enough to hold two men. Fell in one

Weekend, or tripped on grappa and drowned in frozen lactose
While trying to say something. Tragedy was born that day
And that generation lost the ability to speak of other things.

They did it to death. And it was left to Nonno's mob to change
Occupation and surname and style to something more
Generic though obviously less related to history or fact.

And now my children have only folksy family tales to remind them
Of a glorious and tragic past and any intimations of immigration
Or gelato or muskets or grappa have faded. Not to mention poems.

#poem #todayspoem #poetry

Bisnonno

My great grandad was a big man who hid his
Two-hundred year old face behind a huge mustache
While he made gelato and poems in Rome.

He fought Napoleon III and one day was close enough
For a clean shot with his musket. He missed by a
Field and his medal for trying was lost in a flash.

He moved his family to Yorkshire. Made more gelato in a
Pan, added eggs and changed its name. Eventually bought a
New vat big enough to hold two men. Fell in one

Weekend, or tripped on grappa and drowned in frozen lactose
While trying to say something. Tragedy was born that day
And that generation lost the ability to speak of other things.

They did it to death. And it was left to Nonno's mob to change
Occupation and surname and style to something more
Generic though obviously less related to history or fact.

And now my children have only folksy family tales to remind them
Of a glorious and tragic past and any intimations of immigration
Or gelato or muskets or grappa have faded. Not to mention poems.

#todayspoem #poem #poems

According to CNN, Donald Trump's latest book, a collection of letters sent to him by famous people, will be released next year, and will “showcas[e] his private correspondence with past and present celebrities and international icons.”

Embarrassingly for them, letters from Elton John, Michael Jackson, and Princess Diana will likely be included in the “book.”