New poems

Sometimes new poems are like internet posts you make after one too many glasses of wine - best not made public.  Encouraged by others to write openly about bereavement has meant that I've been more inclined to share poems, but if in any doubt at all, I have tried to wait at least a day to make sure a new poem is really something I want to share.   Is it too raw, too much stream of consciousness (which I confess my poems tend to be) or actually not very good at all?  It's worth writing the bad ones, I think, for reasons of self-expression, self-discovery and similar.  There's just no need to make them public and most of my poems do not, indeed, see the light of day.

I'm pleased with this one, though.
 

summer tasks like

removing the winter’s cobwebs

strimming the grass

around the house

putting out the garden furniture

and generally

making the place feel

like the home it has been.

curiously

as I wait for his children

it feels more as if

I’ve been lighting lamps

keeping the home fires burning

and other arcane winter tasks

like a beacon in the dark for them

here one last time.