The Syntax of a look

They speak the unspoken,

translating the syntax of a look -

shy embarrassment

and a coy smile.

We who have grown old,

comfortable in our skins

having studied long in this class,

have forgotten the pressure of its first test - how thick the air becomes

when you are still learning the difference between yes and no.

​She offers her laugh to the invisible city all around her,

an unashamed note of trust

that he reads as permission.

A green light to carry on,

to let him pull her to him - not out of surrender,

but as the first test of her own borders,

discovering that she is the one

who keeps the control.

​He answers with a growing boldness,

the hands of a boy

learning the skills of a man,

breaking the code of her proximity.

Discovering that the world doesn't end at the touch

more; begins there.

​They are practicing the moves,

finding the boundaries

in a quiet rehearsal

staged in the open,

where the only thing that matters

is the heat left behind,

the understanding discovered

and the unwritten comfort created between them.

Thirty (30)

Thirty - an unremarkable number - 10 less than 40,

10 more than 20,

or 1 more than 29.

Cats have exactly 30 teeth.

The minimum age a U.S. Senator has to be is 30.

Months; April, June, September, and November have 30 days in them.

30 years signifies a Pearl Wedding Anniversary.

30 is the second point scored in a game of tennis.

In Back to The Future, Marty McFly traveled 30 years back in time.

30 centimeters equals one foot.

30 is Greece's international calling code. 

There are 30 letters in the Bulgarian alphabet.

30 in Roman numerals is XXX.

In life; your 30's often bring peaking face recognition skills, 

higher-quality friendships, increased self-confidence, and it brings the start of your metabolism slowing down.

30 is the title of a song and an album.

30 is the total number of major and minor keys in Western tonal music.

Judas, in the Bible, allegedly betrayed Jesus in exchange for 30 silver coins.

There are 30 tracks on 'The Beatles‘ The White Album.

The atomic number of zinc is 30.

30 represents the first three prime numbers multiplied (2x3x5).

The number 30 is the sum of the first four square numbers.

There are 30 edges on a dodecahedron.

30 is the sum of the first four squares (1² + 2² + 3² + 4² = 30).

30 is a composite number with 8 divisors (1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 10, 15, 30).

...Turning 30 is a major milestone in life - often symbolizing maturity

for some perhaps,

not all!

(Haiku) The Modern Woman

At the rugby.Two 

beers held in the left hand whilst

texting with the right!

A Million Different Horizons

​A friendly

ghost of a past

plaintive 

wistful

the steam rising from a much enjoyed cup of coffee

a piece of furniture

sat in the corner

a photo of a time 

in a frame

something from a different time

bits of our yesterdays

things we carry with us

smooth edges we caress

convincing us

air was easier to breathe

the sun was warmer

and that tomorrow was a stranger best avoided

a cold room we've yet to enter

​our past 

that familiar coat

warm

snug

taking the chill of today's cold wind away

that comfy fit

our thoughts of yesterday

as your yesterdays feel

to you

like a door you recently shut

the handle still warm from your caress

yet to me

that era was just a week ago

whilst my mine sits in a museum

cold

dusty

things found printed in history books

with black-and-white photos

a different colour entirely

a soft glow

like a dusky summer evening

​the pair of us

stood on the same ground

looking backwards at a million different horizons

all of us certain

that was the best of it

time having slipped through both our fingers

but to a different place

where the shadows stretch long

and the golden light dims

​we stand shoulder to shoulder

as if; two ghosts to be

waiting for this current hour

to turn into tomorrows good old days

the days we haven’t learned to miss yet

so we leave that door behind us

stepping into the cool

quiet air of now

reaching for the still warm latch

of a tomorrow 

we’re finally

ready to meet.

Strangers

Mornings used to fit like an old pair of gloves - routine came naturally. 

The garden gate always squeaked on its rusty hinges

we knew the shape of the silence 'round here

a silence which I fear has now gone 

gone in a slow, 

drip, 

drip, 

drip.

The weight of change sitting heavily in the scented air

a new crop of flowers 

now bloom in our neatly manicured flowerbeds 

beautiful - perhaps,

but not planted by us

faces in a street once familiar - now different

We ​watch from behind net our curtains

staring at something unknown

something we see - but don't understand.

We don't trust this unfamiliarity  as it weighs heavily upon us

so we worry,

worry about the things we can't see

the many things left unsaid 

the things that have definitely changed.

Who are these people 

what do they want - will they understand our ways

what are they here for anyway,

with their coloured skins and funny clothes - what do they want?

We're not racist  

​not hostile - just unsure,

hesitant.

We're not unwelcoming - just unclear, 

vulnerable to change,

brittle - this change might break us

so we guard what we know 

like a flickering flame

vulnerable and exposed

afraid that our panicked breath

might blow out the very light of our history.

We didn't really know they'd arrived

we drove along a road they might have made,

passing a playground full of their children - children learning to get along 

and we didn't see that it was them who taught our children

and made us better when we needed to visit the hospital.

We just sit behind our net curtains

watching the front door 

hand on the latch

waiting to see if this new wind

would blow the door in - but it didn't 

but it did make us look within

it made us question who we are.

Who are we?

Weren't we all strangers once?

Scandal

Dead but not gone

the ghost of a convicted paedophile

metaphoric hand grenades clipped to a belt

tramps the corridors of the elite

people on which he lavished their every fantasy - scheming 

ensnaring 

hand grenades in the shape of photos,

videos,

bank statements,

paper trails like an undercover opporation the KGB would be proud of...

Boom!

scandal within a royal family

a Prince 

knocked off his throne

accusations made

rough seas

TV interviews could not calm

titles removed

evictions made 

talk of vast monies paid - the true meaning of the word 'scandal'

the pin pulled out of the next hand grenade

politicians were sought

the ghost came knocking...

Booom!

at the door of one known as the 'Prince of Darkness'

an appropriate name 

created from the murky under-world 

of political spin

the political media strategists

faceless men from the back rooms

in a return that was not foreseen 

a return which; few since said they approved of

he; twice counted out

twice out on the political canvas

a dark grey 'suit' from the shadows - ennobled,

ermin clad,

connected

dazzled by the headlights of fame

drawn in by money and influence

now within the political aristocracy 

but; greedy 

eyes seeking a larger prize!

They said 'due diligence' was done

information gleaned

research undertaken 

choices made - choices which would come back to bite

despite which

to the big league he was sent

the 'Oval Office' 

dripping with power and influence 

complete with another title

a Prime Ministers' reputation sent with him 

a Prime Minister as yet unaware

of the hand grenades still clipped to the belt of a ghost - a ghost seaking this 'Prince of Darkness' 

despatched to the 'States'

taking with him lies confessed to no-one

creating long dark shadows 

stretching far across the Atlantic

not to be silenced 

the growing noise at home eliminating from the stalking 

ghostly presence...

 

Booom!

and this dark prince was toppled

paperwork uncovered

details of relationships  

trapped

by the ghost

of a wealthy 

convincing

connected

convicted

paedophile.

The 'Prince of Darkness' - the 'come-back-kid' 

cold and callous 

taking his treachery right to the very top

no word of the trafficked and abused children

self-centred and uncaring

Booom!

they kept digging

emails uncovered

information passed to his paedophile friend 

the price; keys to a luxury flat

market sensitive information 

allowing a window in which to profit 

documents - vast paper trails

the amounts of monies paid

the lavish parties

the houses bought 

a deal for information

the hand grenades going off 

still sounding in his ears

Booom! Booom! Booom!

This trator now uncovered 

the digital media running full pelt to stand still

packs of snarling editors 

licking lips

social media full of opinion

the printed media unable to keep up

files of uncomfortable reminders

enough to feed the 'Red Tops' hunger for sleaze for a life time

yet...

another pin pulled out

Booom!!

A prime minister caught by the shrapnel 

only a lectern holding him up

flimsy explanations

a lawyer in need of a good lawyer

betrayed by a former party member 

a former colleague

friend

confident

with the whole of parliament 

under suspicion

electorate full of doubt

calls for resignations

talking heads aligning under political colours

the vultures circling

a Prime Minister 

fighting for his political life...

and if you'd submitted this 

as a script 

to a film producer 

for him to take on

...he'd have laughed you out of his office 

saying it's too bizarre

too far fetched!

...Booom!