Tuesday, 13 September 2016


In part, we are,
In part, we always were
Phantoms from another time.
Time travellers. Ghosts.
Fading in. Now fading out.
Like spectral curls of mist
From time past to time present.
And back to whence we came.

Monday, 5 September 2016

Why, Oh Why, The Dye?

"By the way I saw the Useless Article (with dyed hair), - the blighter had the cheek to get into my carriage when my train stopped at Highgate. I did a nifty exit into the next carriage. What is the Northern line coming to? I noticed Farrant had dark brown hair, sandals, no mac, it was a hot day, what looked like a '70's shirt with large collar (charity shop), but no zimmer frame, as yet." — A. Hill (18 August 2016)

Why, oh why, does Farrant dye

His hair when there is no need

For a man in his seventies to try

To cover the grey and deceive?

We can all see the whiskers white

And undyed where sideburns greet

Strangely coloured hair and light

Grey bristles evidentially meet

Startled eyes expecting the chops

To match the darkened mop on top.

Why dye? 'Cause it's in the eye

Of the beholder that this is a lie.

Saturday, 3 September 2016

The Last Time I Saw Arthur

Adieu, said the upturned glass in 1966. Adieu.
Was it you? No not me. He said he knew who.
The electric socket suddenly sparked and blew.
Adieu! Adieu! Adieu! Adieu! Adieu! Adieu!

The last time I saw Arthur was a handful of days ago,
Or was it, all considered, a handful of decades or so,
When first I occasioned upon him in another studio
At Kilburn where he learned darkroom processing.

He came to Islington part-time, while confessing
The early mornings he delivered pints of milk
Before printing off pictures of females in silk
And gents in top hats and all that. I'm guessing

The Arthur who worked at my studio back then
Is not the one before me now. Today he is a ghost
Who looks distantly with eyes vacant at his host
As I await for the Arthur of old to spark again.

Occasionally it does, and laughter breaks anew;
And then, Adieu! Adieu! Adieu! Adieu! Adieu!