They walked upstairs, the door to No. 4 was still open. The flat had the same stale aroma as the front hall, it was a cheap rental property, with little furniture. “I say again, what is the meaning of this?” snorted Depardon, Templeman showed Depardon his warrant card. “Special Branch? Why is Special Branch involved?” […]
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“Why don’t Service officers do these shifts?” asked Cosby. Templeman pondered a reply. “There are two reasons Micky; the first is the official one, the second the unofficial one. The official reason is that Secret Service officers do not have a power of arrest, they hold no police warrant and can take no one into
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Templeman yawned, his breath rapidly condensing in the darkened cabin of the Ford Zodiac as warm and cold collided. He was tired and his limbs were numb: sleep beckoned; it was the animal response to the wintry night. He considered the bonnet of the car, where a sheet of frost had formed as the vehicle
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Went the day well? Went the day well? I sipped cold beer in the hot garden And dozed in a chair. Went the day well? I thought of work And decided not to think of it again. Went the day well? I made a list of the things to delay to another
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Daunting “Daunting, isn’t it?” I offered inadequately To the sweating workman Who grunted like a weightlifter attempting to lift a bus And offered me an eye full of evil and contempt in reply. “Are you sure there isn’t another way?” “Perhaps a block and tackle? You know, lift it?” Pointing up to the first-floor window
The people where I work The people where I work Are all odd I don’t mean to be rude And most definitely not crude But there is something most assuredly Wrong We begin at eight Heh! Those emails won’t wait! Our desks are identical Which doesn’t make sense at all As we value
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The robin A robin came to our garden The other day. When frost was in the air and on the ground. It wavered on the bough of the holly bush. Watching me, its head bobbing and jet-black eyes piercing my soul. It spoke to me silently of love And the good life to come. And
Raindrop On a spring morning A raindrop struck an outstretched leaf And the raindrop exploded Cascaded, erupted in translucent Fragments As the leaf, green and glistening Buckled and rose, buckled and rose In slow majesty As the water sluiced Away In the morning air Copyright © David Alexander 2023
Christmas 2020 Strip all baubles away Remove the tree The box of presents And the lights Leave nothing But the wish The urge The will To love I will be happy To be with you And you with me We will hail the world As we find it. Accept no cold or dark Into our
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I have created a series of posts containing poems written over a number of years. The first poem is Christmas 2020, written at the worst point of the Covid pandemic. Photo by Jan Kahánek on Unsplash
Poetry Autumn 2023 Read More »