A warning at the yellow tape –
contains strong language
but strong is what holds the roof up –
it’s foul that blocks the drains
or blows the glass out of the window frames.
On a brass plate by the bell-pull
sexual themes
It’s a warning-off, or what you will,
like a two-edged sword (it cuts both ways)
and it’s a trick that every jade plays.
Sign on the window in small print
disturbing images
Is that what the punters want,
and the words don’t mean what they seem to say –
that we should look away?
On this doormat
welcome
You might hardly notice it –
a promise likely unfulfilled.
Must they lie to me before I cross the threshold?
And if I’m offered food
may contain nuts
Who’s protecting whom?
It’s just a game – a bit of fun – like trick-or-treat.
We ought to say the grace before we eat.
I say – in this courtyard, each alternate arch
should open to a goat shed.
Every home should have one. Such
is what we need to shift the blame
for words we do not care enough to mean.
Here on the planking of this door
a white saltire
Some people treat this place like a hospital ward,
but white cross or black flag
we are all carriers of the same plague.
But there’s a knocking at the outer gate – and yes
I open it to find
that same samaritan (small ‘s’).
He’s come back – as he said he would,
his next time in this neighbourhood.
Unpublished.
I wrote this as a competition entry. It didn't win.
Stephen Halliday 