1128

To a dying fish

How did you survive so many weeks

When all of us could see that you were dying?

Grazing at the bottom of the tank

Ignored by fitter friends, you kept on trying,

Even though you could not really swim,

And spiralled round the plants in search of food.

Day after day you stayed alive until

You hardly moved more than your eyes and could

Seem dead, save for a sudden twitch of fin

Or shudder in your thinning humped back spine.

Then I was forced to wonder if the pain

You seemed to suffer was anything like mine.

            I killed you quickly, then flushed you away;

            Buried at sea - but still alive today.

Brian Hick March 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 29.2.24

 1127

Tobacco Factory

I was their age when I first saw Lear;

But will they recall Shrapnell's King

As I do Schofield's, with that ring

Of darkness, that still makes my soul fear?

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 28.2.24

 1126

Bristol Dock

Mud Dock, near the Arnolfini,

Out on the roof terrace in the sun

A pint of cider to celebrate

St David's Day.

No need for a coat

And I've even put my hat

Upon a chiar.

Small boats saunter down the dock

Past the cranes and Brunel's masterpiece

On towards Avonmouth.

I've got the Independant

But would rather sit and look

Even if I can't help writing this.

Life is good;

And these lines flow insistently.

Perhaps I really do need foreign climes

To lubricate this easy flow of rhymes?

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 27.2.24

 Moving on (2)

21 2 12

          We make an offer, hoping it will do,

          And meanwhile I am off to join the queue

          At the  Solicitors, to find someone

          Willing to join us in the hectic run

          To tie up all the ends and swap the papers

          Which will bring us all untold new neighbours,

          To say nothing of a long walk to the bus

          But then it's nearer Asda's, so the fuss

          Is worth it, even though we have to wait

          Until we all agree a moving date.

22 2 12

          A letter from the agent seals the sale

          Assumng the solicitors don't fail.

          Meanwhile I must prove I'm who I am

          To prevent a money laundering scam;

          And Mrs M, our buyer, takes the chance

          To measure up before she's back to France.

24 2 12

          Off for a walk but I need to phone

          To arrange a survey of our new home.

          Agreed the price of this with Meridian

          To undertake a basic legal scan

          Which hopefully will find no lurking facts

          To slow up the exchange of our contracts.

25 2 12

          Measure up, check power-points and curtains,

          Sky dish, broadband and all that there pertains.

          Try to deliver urgent forms on Saturday

          Only to find all closed until next Monday.

27 2 12

          Two hours early, the surveyor rings the bell

          But Sam is sleeping, so she has to quell

          Confusion that she has misread the time

          And come back later, when all will be fine.

          Yet again provide my passport and

          The Water Bill to prove just who I am;

          This time for my lawyer, who you'd think

          Was being paid by me, so might have blinked

          Had I been using Hastings as a way

          To launder money into the UK.

28 2 12

          The estimator came to view the stuff

          Which we want to keep and move with us,

          Plus a letter from our lawyer's firm

          That all should be plain sailing from now on.

          Like my dad, I've made a plan to show

          Where all the books and furniture will go.

Brian Hick February 2012

 1125

I must get used to writing where I am

And not wait for that special moment when,

Like sitting on the train, it seems I can

Work out my ideas with a pen.

For the last few days, concentrating

On the house move, I've had little time

For anything, it seems, except in meeting

The needs of the moment. Setting down in rhyme

More than the passing stages of the move

Or casual haikus, seems to be beyond

Me, and hours can pass while my thoughts rove

Irresolute, unfocussed and unhoned.

            This sonnet simply goes to prove that lines

            Can work themselves without engaging minds.

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 23.2.24

 1124 (parable)

A recently retired couple were strolling along the beach towards the old

bathing pool site. They came across a pushchair, with a toy and a child's

blanket in it, but no sign of child or mother. As they were looking round

they heard a young woman's voice give a plaintive cry, almost in despair,

'Chloe! Chloe!'

The couple ran towards her and joined in, running up and down in

different directions and calling out 'Chloe! Chloe!', but to no avail. The

young woman stopped and shook her head, but made no attempt to speak.

The retired couple looked at each other, gave up and walked slowly back

towards the bathing pool; but as they approached the abandoned

pushchair they saw a rather dishevelled young man with a scruffy beard

trying to strap a wriggling toddler into it.

They ran forward, not quite knowing whether to grap the child or ring for

the police.

Just then they heard the faint yap of a small dog.

'Oh Chloe!'

Brian Hick February 2012

 1123

ENO 25 2 12

I had to stand up

Twice for Janet Suzman, who

Came down the wrong row.

Brian Hick 25 2 12

©copyright Sally Hick 21.2.24

 1122

This notebook is changing it's function.

For the first three years it simply showed

A careful balance of poetry and prose;

But

Since I've retired -

And let's accept

That in reality I have -

The entries are confused,

As if my life

Once ordered, regimented and secure

Had suddenly been scattered to the winds;

Every note just dumped beside the next

Regardless of the context or content.

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 20.2.24

 1121

You do not want to read this;

The scribbled notes, the crossings out,

The clichés and the after-thoughts.

Wait until I've typed it up

Or better still wait for the book

By which time all will be smoothed;

Each word a tin pearl,

Each line a universe

Of fragile meaning giving birth

To thoughts which at the moment

Don't exist -

And all this rubbing out will seem

Little more than Bottim's dream

Compared to Hamlet's tortured soul

Where words alone cannot console.

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 19.2.24

 1120

Le Bonheur @ the Electric Palace

Last time I saw this

I went with Malcom; what price

Happiness today?

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 16.2.24

 1119

Notes from Norfolk

A night of milder air and all the snow is gone.

Sun oozes through the gently warming grey;

The fields return to green

Beneath the sway of stripped out branches;

Now we must believe that winter's done.

......

A blackbird calls above Our Lady's shrine

While workmen plant the beds anew

For the Lenten pilgrims who

Will seek for resurrection in spring time.

The rosary's intoned and prayers are said

Candles lit and offerings made

To Our Lady, who has paved

The path we follow, where her son has led.

Silent lanes wind across the fens

.....

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 15.2.24

 Moving on

28.1.12

            Malcolm came, convincing us to sell;

            We both pray that everything goes well.

30.1.12

            Malcolm rang; 'can't come today,' he said,

            'Can we make Wednesday morning now instead?'

1.2.12

             Malcolm came to photograph each room

             And sudden sunshine cheered the winter gloom.

2.2.12

             The Energy Survey's seventy-five pound fee

             Is over ninety pounds with VAT.

6.2.12

             The Survey Man was thirty minutes late;

             He left our Doll's House like BritArt at the Tate.

7.2.12

             The details of our house arrive ere long

             The photos look good - but the facts are wrong;

8.2.12

             So back to Andrews to correct the detail

             Only to find our house already on sale.

9.2.12

             Collect the details of some homes to view;

             Hoping it's worth seeing one or two.

             It will take three days to ensure our facts updating

             The computer is in Bristol - that's why we're waiting.

10.2.12

            The ad is in the paper, so we wait

             In hopes that someone wants to take the bait.

18.2.12

            A man who works for Andrews comes to view;

            We talk about the damp spots and the new

            Wood burner, which he seems to like.

            A couple from the south of France seem quite

            Keen that we have kept the wooden doors

            And the picture rails bring their encores.

20.2.12

            We've an offer which might fit the bill

            But this means we have no time to kill

            In finding a place where we all can live

            So frantic visits must attempt to give

            A lighting indication of a home

            Which just might do, given we wish to roam.

Amazingly we find a house which ticks all the boxes

With more than enough places for our underwear and soxes!

 1118

Psalm

You teach me how to love by loving me,

Speaking to my heart, so that I dare

To answer you - though how can my words be

Enough, which never, ever will come near

The soft immensity of time you give

To any who have found the time to wait.

How can I, in these few years I'll live,

Start to repay the debt upon my slate

Banked through eternity and owed to you,

Who give me life, as if I alone

Mattered, and all that's good and true

Were just for me, though for so long unknown?

            So everything that I can be is yours

            And with creation worships and adores.

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 13.2.24

 1117

A carefully drafted poem 

For Valentine's Day 2012

A Haiku for you;

Love, love, love, love, love, love, love,

Love, love, love, love, love!

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 12.2.24

 1116

Circle the black box 

Seven times

Throw your stones

The more of you there are

The more identity is lost

Until like iron filings

You are atoms

Floating round a magnet

Mindless, meaningless motion -

An end in itself.

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 9.2.24

 1115

Change is in the air, but not decay

Unless you think that age is all downhill

And after thirty everyting's one way.

Change is in the air.

The house is on the market and though the bill

For all that that involves might cause dismay,

We face the challenge with a ready will - 

Enthusiasm even - that each day

Can only bring more joy for us, until

We reach the final step along the way.

Change is in the air.

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 8.2.24

 1114

February 1952

'The King has died, dear,' whispered Mrs Harding

As we washed our hands before we went to eat

Our dinner in the school hall that dull morning.

'The King has died.'

I was only six, and did not treat

The news with any sense of mourning

But began - seeing my teacher greet

Her friend in silence - to feel a subtle dawning,

An awareness this day would create

A lingering memory of an era passing.

'The King has died.'

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 7.2.24

 1113

Late evening snow has blanketed the land

Turning all that is to wedding cake,

Broken only by the shards which stand

Crystaled near the edges of the lake

Where she dances, innocent, as though

This virgin world were fashioned just for her

And its fragile unity, aglow

With promise, waits till we concur,

Joining the figures that she traces here

Across the Downs and out above the Sea

To link earth and water, fire and air,

In one eternal round of harmony.

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 6.2.24

 1112

Morning apparition

I'ts only half past seven

But a snowman

Fully formed

Is staring at me

From across the road.

What late reveller took the time

To put him there?

But my morning innocence

Could not see

He was more of phallus than of me.

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 5.2.24

 111

Moshe Dyan is sitting opposite me

In Pizza Express near the British Library.

It must be him -

Older than me

Bald

With an eye-patch.

I wonder what he thinks

Of bombing Iran?

Brian Hick February 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 2.2.24

 1110

I've sawn up all the wood

Swept the kitchen floor

Answered all the emails

Read the post.

It's only ten o'clock

And I can't quite believe

There's nothing left to do.

Oh yes, I could find something,

Make work for myself,

But actually

There's nothing I need to do

So

Day-time TV here we come!

Brian Hick January 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 1.2.24