Wednesday, 14 August 2019

reflected in puddles by Paul Robert Mullen


locals gather                centre of the village

an old man flying                    kites
            high above the square
which is small / somehow oriental

she stops to sit
beneath the fingers of the husky oak
            a postcard to a lover

. . . it rains heavily here
                        but the town is like a painting . . .

long september nearly over                 coastal pathways
            down to hotels snaking past pier heads
and fishing boats
translation of Tristan Tzara under her arm

. . . i miss you and i love you
            but i may never understand you . . .

at night her window open wide
            the scent of falling dew outside 


---

Paul Robert Mullen is a poet, musician and sociable loner from Liverpool, U.K. He has three published poetry collections: curse this blue raincoat (2017), testimony (2018), and 35 (2018). He has been widely published in magazines, journals and anthologies worldwide. Paul also enjoys paperbacks with broken spines, and all things minimalist.

No comments:

Post a Comment

I Become a Gymslip Girl by Jennie Farley

We wear our boaters tipped to one side,  our navy-blue cardies back-to-front, tunics tucked up to show our knees. We stick out our ...