Virtual Conversations

Too little time to gather each memento,

Tokens only, second best, it’s true,

Each a valued part of all our yesterdays,

Virtual realities of you.

Here’s the service, china that you cherished,

Inside the case of glass so worldly old,

Incongruous among the modern,

Patina still polished, burnished gold.

There’s blue Willow Pattern, studied paintwork,

Aladdin’s lamp that took your fancy too,

Books on every subject that you purchased,

Read, shared, discussed, in nights where me and you

Sat up in the small hours drinking whisky,

Passion flying in between debate,

Nothing ever vetoed in discussion,

We didn’t know then time was running late.

Time, the bastard child of loving parents,

Belonging nowhere, orphaned while we muse

Each and every small memento looked on,

I’d swap them all for one more night with you.

My mother died five years ago, it’s not the anniversary of her death but she’s been in my mind a lot this while back. Dreams of her, conversations in the dreams, looks I know so well. Whenever this occurs I know there’s something I need to listen to, something I would have discussed with her, something that’s eluding my full understanding or something I’m ignoring. She was good on the somethings and the everythings. Nothing ever vetoed. Need to listen now. Or she’ll skelp my arse! And I’d welcome it for one more real conversation.




Greeting unexpected,


Smile a loud hello.

Then quickly recollect this one

Was from,

Oh, so long ago.


A different time, another life

When youth

Bound both together.

When talking never

Felt so strange,

We could chat about whatever.


Then something changed,

Indelibly imprinted,

Conversations to recall,

Remembrances of later days

Compared to when, no

Silence found at all.


Time. It changes everything.

Where once laughter

Fuelled our words,

Moments pass unnoticed,

Now smiling

Seems absurd.


No joy in happy memories

When awkward

Is about,

Tiptoeing thru’ thorn’d hedges,

Manic hilarity

Wants to shout


At loss of what was

So freely sought

And more than freely given,

Tongue-tied now

Creates, for some,

A hellish kind of heaven.


A purgatory of great unknowing.

Can road be traversed

Once again?

Or does what is past

Remain there dead, undead,

No more giving, no more given?


Some friends have gone

And lovers too,

Spouses, all those chosen,

When discomfiture steals

The heat from all, leaves

Hearts stiff and almost frozen.


Lapsed, neglected


From distant long ago,

Or stagnant pools of


Presented now may show


A failing sense of interaction,


Gone astray.



Relationships end this way.


Open windows, open doors,


And so aerate.

Open hearts  and open minds

Help to keep

All attachments great.


Video reading  Awkward