preparing Sandie Craigie’s poems for publication
typing the words
ever so slowly
her Edinbury dialect
and spelling
coming uneasy
to wasted fingers
and west coast brain
___
but in my head
I hear her voice
and see her clearly
rocking to the rhythm
of these potent lines
that make me weep
and laugh in turn
___
seven long years gone
and still my eyes
seep torrid tears
___
the fear
the horror
the love
___
no more than
memory now
___
the pain in my gut
a sharp reminder
of what is lost
paper hat man
when it begins to wear out
he will make a new one
sometimes it’s a black and
white newsprint affair
all those stories on his head
both sad and bad
with the odd humorous
or human interest tale
snuck in to lighten the load
___
sometimes it’s a glossy
magazine page
colourful and terribly chic
like today’s model
sporting fragments of models
stiletto heels, sleek hair
some elegant clothes and
half a muscular torso
tucked into numerous folds
___
but always the same design
a neat little pillbox of a hat
above the unshaven face of
the local roofer who laughs a lot
tells jokes and funny stories
and is just a wee bit crazy
from too much sun
up there on the rooftops
day after day after day
___
Crassie, the paper hat man
an eccentric and welcome
addition to our village life
Petar
it was a hard existence
lonely and full of pain
and now that it is over
who will remember?
___
Petar, it took a while
to get to know you
and I wish that we
could have shared more
conversation, communication
now it is too late
but I, for one, will not forget
and bid you a fond farewell
___
this cold and cruel world
is no place for one like you
***
