Sunday, 4 September 2011


"What shall we do today?"

If reason were not enough to stay inside
encased in the blue moon chill
of what weekend remains,
the expression on her face
said we will be joining them
not would, or could or maybe.

The cat stole its way from the void,
that endless repetitive space which
existed when we never could agree;
When the hunter gatherer required more than
an interest rate for barter and exchange;
When the science of numerology
meant more than a new car every three years;
When two houses meant two mortgages
but then two is supposed to be prime.

And besides we didn't need a new sofa
or fridge, or freezer, video, DVD or telly.

"What about... words and archers?"

The blowpipe's dart hit dead wood
the vine of silence tightening
until isolated thud of the letter box
and loud protestations from the cyclist
interrupted my wishful thinking.

"What about the new bells?"

Cat, unable to sheath the claw
during the high brunch stand-off
softened, playing heedlessly
with last nights accompaniments.
Red-faced negligence -
a decision not long in the making.

"Ready in five?"

© Shaun Parrin

Old St Martin’s gets its new ring of bells
Editor's note: We rarely receive a 'Sunday' poem, so this week's Review is making way. Normal Sunday service will be resumed next weekend.
Shaun is a non-professional award winning photographer and published writer.