Poems from the Journal
of Douglas Munday
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           © 2009 Douglas Munday    all rights reserved
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The Bellhop's Lament


The uniform is very smart 
and fits quite perfect to the part 
I daily play. 

But no-one sees me come or go 
and no-one ever really knows 
the dreams I dream. 

And if they did, what might they care? 
For I have no more than an air  
of incidently being there 
to serve the whim. 

But I have plans as yet unfurled 
to travel far and see the world, 
walk barefoot on a sunbleached shore, 
sail by the stars for evermore. 
Find love exquisite to the taste, 
feel the wind of freedom on my face 
until all I've seen, shapes all I am, 
not duty bound to give a damn.  
Instead, free spirit I will roam 
until by choice and choice alone, 
I take me home. 

But for now : 
The uniform is very smart, 
and fits quite perfect to the part 
I daily play. 

Both Sides of the Coin

A friend of mine once asked of me 
my thoughts on how the world might be, 
without the TV and the press 
who daily gossip at the mess 
we make. 

I said I thought a different place 
if we were never made to face 
what harm we serve this paradise, 
that comes at far too high a price 
to pay. 

He shrugged, then made to disagree, 
Just words, he said, are all I see, 
Soundbites adding to the score 
for profit gained and nothing more 
than circulation. 

But much is told came my reply, 
We see the instant bullet fly, 
then watch the image on the screen 
and listen to the soundless scream 
of dying dreams. 

Then in reflection, in his eye, 
I saw him hear the children cry; 
the pistol crack at sullen dawn, 
when all of dignity is shorn 
and took away. 

And as the evening slowly fell 
toward the toll of midnight bell, 
there came accord, if most unsaid, 
of how perilous the path we tread 
to blind indifference. 

For what good the truth without a face, 
the sin concealed without a trace? 
What point the shroud of disregard, 
and a world shown perfect and unscarred - 
by one side of the coin? 

Relatively Speaking
On the concept of perceptual relativity, 
I know little and care even less, 
but this face is considerably handsome 
and quite suits me, I'm bound to confess. 

The puzzle of course, is who is it? 
For 'tis very familiar to me, 
and each time I pass by a particular spot 
it's the first blessed thing that I see. 

Now I'm just a cat, not some boffin 
with enough intellectual skill 
to figure out why we so perfectly match, 
when we stand, or sit down, or keep still. 

For my forte is purring and pouting 
and preening myself day and night, 
with occasional foray when dusk falls, 
for romance, or perhaps a good fight. 

So I shall just prowl on regardless, 
which is all a cat does; more or less, 
But this face is considerably handsome, 
and quite suits me I'm bound to confess. 

First Born


How time has flown, 
how transient seems the hour, 
each day, each precious year. 
For now, heart light and 
warmed by summer sun 
you must take wing; 
Ignore the velvet hasp of 
whispered promises and dreams; 
those ancient scribes, who - 
beard bent and trailing inky fingers 
along their manuscripts of lies, 
will bid you join some dull and dusty call, 
hands eager held to catch you if you fall. 

And broken heart, so softly pale, 
I can only watch and pray 
as fragile winged, high up 
amongst the stars that 
dust the endless skies, 
you soar beyond these dark 
and stygian city walls. 
So fly my child, stay footloose, 
fancy free; let stumbled footsteps,
dulled and city eyes be mine alone. 
Your time has come, my task is done; 
My wild, my graceful, first born child, 
My brightest, lightest, heartfelt summer child. 

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