White shoes click clacking. 
Rosie and I snaking our way through the indigo gloom,
Two verdant escorts in tow.
We separate.

I was one of those kids who had to recite and learn poems as a party piece for the grownups. It became a self-fulling prophecy that my life has been filled with the tapestry of poems. Now I write my own, and I would like to share this one with you below.



A TARDIS in Leeds City Art Gallery – portable art


White shoes click clacking. 
Rosie and I snaking our way through the indigo gloom,
Two verdant escorts in tow.
We separate.
The crimson paint splatters over her head,
She sinks to the back to hide behind the monolith.

And he came running after her chastity,
As she spins in her Tardis prison.
Black night, white sheets.
The pin digs into the folds.
Stop Go Stop Go,
As she vanishes into the next dimension,
Pinned to the blue walls.
A mixed blessing.
During during, wires crossed.
White wedding.
White out.
Sheets left.

Tuesday at two,
He's not revealing his crystal sword
To the BTeam down at the grapes of wrath,
Where Liberty Bodice meets Pinfold.
Bye Red Dwarf. I'm screaming.

In the next dimension where crossed rackets shine,
Pinfold Potterite sings hallelujah.
And my sweet child drops from my arms,
His head bobbing down the gritty church steps,
Boring , boring through my skull,
Divided once more.

Now the child man clutches his flat headed cap,
And slopes along the pavement with his entourage
Carefully crossing roads,
Far from the Belisha beacons,
A day trip to Morrison's.
Up to the top and down to the bottom.
Don't cough.

Asymptotic testing kits have arrived.
"We'll pin your sides if you move!"
Please EAT and don't mind the robots,
As they watch over your zoochotic pacing.
Life's a gamble that is often tough.
A short life is worthwhile if full of love.

Patricia Goldberg ©2020


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Published by simplyme841

How I got through it I really don't know, but I did a vow of silence for learning disabilities for a year a couple of years ago. I had wanted to do it for three or four years beforehand, after finding out about an Australian who did it for the animals. But the timing was never right. It was difficult but during the silence I learnt about John Francis, the environmentalist and author, who did it for seventeen years whilst walking barefoot across America playing the banjo. I had to make sure I drank enough fluids and had plenty of exercise so that my respiratory system didn't collapse, and learnt new things and read difficult books to keep my mind alert. It is very tough again during lockdown too, but immensely difficult for those with learning disabilities. I began writing my poetry last spring in the first Covid pandemic lockdown, and it poured out of me. But as you can tell from my readings my voice is still weak.

2 thoughts on “MY POEMS (1)

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