Author Archives: david davidson

As I was reading the work of another poet I thought, ‘I could have written that.’ But I couldn’t, it was hers, not mine, it was she who burgled my house not I who burgled hers, it was she who left her prints on the light switch, her feet light on the stairs, her hand on the doorContinue reading “Mary Oliver”

Why is nothing working anymore? Maybe it’s because the Gods want something different from us now, something new, something fresh, something we haven’t thought of before or once knew but have forgotten. But nobody is asking what it might be, just applying the same old same old, things that set one against the other, seekContinue reading “Broken”

  So death is outwalking our streets again,don’t follow him to see where he goes,don’t catch his eye or touch his clothes,just look away and let him byand pay your respect with a silent sigh. Know that in time your heart will soften,you’ll recall the person, not the coffin,and in their place new hope willContinue reading “Death”

The night busdropped me off herenearly seventy years ago,I watched it go, it’s warmth,the smell of dieseland it’s golden windowsdisappearing into the night. It wasn’t long beforethe dawn came and I couldsee where I was, but ittook me much longerto work out why I was here.I’m not complaining,by and large  I haverisen to the challenge,it wasn’t always easybutContinue reading “The night bus”

At first he was delighted, delighted at all the things he could do. But as time passed he found that much of what he did caused distress to others so he did less and less. It took a while but eventually he ended up like the rest of us here in the woodland, sitting withContinue reading “Gold”

The trains don’t stop here anymore but I can see them passing through, and sometimes in the winter I step onto the tracks, into the slipstream of one that has hurried past to feel the warmth it leaves behind, the scent of the people, the coffee and the oil, listen to the sound of theContinue reading “Trains”

  Some people, when they walked through my heart, left a golden thread behind them, so I could find them when they were gone.   And when I fell, I really fell, I found those threads also bore my weight.

Sometimes I look over at you, or I hear you speak and I think, ‘I hardly even know you.’ But it’s not in the way you look or even what you say that the knowing exists. I know your heart and how like to my own it is.

When the trees started growing the first thing the stars did was to teach the leaves to sing, how be like them, how to be in harmony, together and apart. The stars knew that one day their brothers and sisters would want to visit the earth, but they worried that when they did the sheerContinue reading “The Breeze”

Don’t tell me, don’t talk to me, don’t stand in my way. You think I don’t know that even on a good day I am morally ambiguous? That’s because I need to see, to find out for myself what is and what is not. Don’t ask me to agree with your views, believe in oneContinue reading “Don’t”