Departure Lounge

whilst waiting
on inauspicious days
for flights

the Angel of extreme unease
whispers to the departees
things they wouldn't wish to hear

like 'pilot error'
and ' faulty landing-gear'

and they see his shadow cross the wall
in the terminal
at the final call

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Paperback

' dust at the side of the road '

the story writes itself
in however how many pages it may take

it can feel your pulse-rate rise
and enters through your skin

it is a very fine dust
slides easy off the page

then grain by grain by grain
it burrows deeper in

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Blurrsville

such a journey
looking out from our carriage
on this train

it's blurrsville
'cos we're going too fast
they're just reflections in your eyes

and you reach out
attach stickers to the window

titles of old songs
for me
fragmented verses half-remembered tunes

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Kyoto old-town

lunch in the Old-Town
flown in six thousand miles

to see through a half-open door

him sullen
peeling potatoes
crouched on the red-tiled floor

he sees the bulge of my wings
beneath my coat
and sighs

Kyoto Spring is chilling
as the egg-yolk breaks and fries

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Autumn

white flowers
shadows 'gainst a white wall
all colour spent

here we hesitate
haven't the nerve
to bring to mind
that which we might find
behind a curtain in another room

traces of an old perfume

they turn away

we deflect thoughts
of what it is too late to say

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Nowhere To Hide

in the optician's chair
before the wallchart-game
unexpectedly there came the ask
for him to remove his mask

then to complete a questionnaire
phobias proclivities after-dark activities
instances of flying wearing tights
Cripes!
Batman realised his cover was blown

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Tennis

consenting adults
stand face to face

is it so pointless

so with utmost good-taste
oh how soon it occurred
'twas served from above
along came that word
and love's heaped on love

to give and receive
it causes less pain
and nought has no place
when it's only a game

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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TThe Piano

at the Music Festival
he'd arrived late
weary after a long flight
and at Reception the piano-tuner waits
with his instruments of torture

the check-in lady smiles

then what she did
she must have known
'Ah oui Monsieur Trombone'

and he responded
by slightly raising his lid.

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Armless In Camera

a speck of shadow
blazes across her marble breast
from East to West
as Venus crosses the sun

and profoundly deep inside the digital pixelways
even the delet button can't erase
what's there to stay

mirrors the essential obscurity
of her flaunting that which she can't display

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Out-There

morning
camel-herders
money-changers
things from outer-space

hullabaloo and shindig
jostling at the gates

sense I've raised one eyelid
snapped shut
but it's too late

somehow reach the bathroom
reflect on my disguise

I'm shower-head and toothpaste
and soap gets in their eyes

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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