Curriculum for Excellence

Written By: Tamb - Aug• 13•13

With  out­stretched arms she opened

 a world at first above our heads.

‘Leap before you Look’ she read

and we flew

cap­tive in her hands for a year.

In back rows she found Romeos

will­ing to die before their peers;

pig­gies, lost or cast away

were offered other parts to play.

 

We fol­lowed lines knowing

there would be arms

opened to us

if we should stumble

or fall.

 

 

 

 

 

Tam Beirne copyright

Waking up on Portobello

Written By: Tamb - Aug• 01•13

I ran on sand with saf­fron monks

fly­ing kites we’d spent that morn­ing making.

With paper and sticks bear­ing Bud­dhist wheels

we car­ried birth­day greet­ings for a man

who just sat still.

In unfolded chairs par­ents watched children

splash and build cas­tles made to timely fall.

Shaded, a cou­ple with faces red

from too much drink

toasted our daft­ness with their cans.

 

Taut between fin­gers grasping

on to tales of others

I heard the chimes of a Mr. Whippy van.

Let­ting go, I took the path most travelled 

and that has made all the difference.

 

 

 

 

 

Tam Beirne copyright

 

Ticket to Hide

Written By: Tamb - Jun• 23•13

Leave me please

hud­dled in the cor­ner of a bare room

hands tied to feet

naked, of course, for the poetry.

 

Leave ‘what if’ out there.

Wave it like a flag on the ‘if only’ parade

or place it like a sick note in a child’s

out­stretched hand:

 

Please excuse _______,

she/he is unable to do today

because of yesterday

and all the days before.

 

 

 

 

Tam Beirne copyright

 

 

Just Cry

Written By: Tamb - Jun• 21•13

As teardrops grow on lashes

heavy we hang suspended

in a solu­tion of our own making.

A fallen drop lets a sense of self

seep through Rush­more ways.

Dry your eyes’ a child hears and the adult

remem­bers a hand or any­thing to hand

restor­ing sur­face agreements.

 

Observe the father who sips through the day

stag­ger­ing and scat­ter­ing his chil­dren away

pound­ing the ice for a child in his care

sod­den for­ever in his hole of despair.

 

Whose hurt is stopped up in a bro­ken down home

where a toy break­ing infant play­ing alone

finds a pros­trated mother lying stripped bare

under some pass­ing uncle’s repair?

 

Lie on a blan­ket and cra­dle your brother

hold him in sleep as you once dreamed together

of sweets and treats and flags in the air

before words became weapons and fam­i­lies could tear.

 

As teardrops fall

cries burst on a moment’s penetration

are touched and dried

foun­da­tion applied.

But sift the ruins of a pro­tected site

re-find old earth with care­ful digging

touch the wells of our ancient selves

and evolve ever gen­tly through a tear.

 

 

 

 

Tam Beirne copyright

Man and Boy

Written By: Tamb - Jun• 16•13

For­ever framed on a piano never played

a dim­pled judge in toi­let roll wig

sus­pends judge­ment with a hammer

just like daddy’s.

 

Still know­ing not to carry wet

through the house, he strips by the fire.

Taller than me he smells of trees

and sweat lost in clothes drying

crum­pled on a horse, like the paper

I now stuff his work boots with.

 

 

 

Tam Beirne copyright

Cheese

Written By: Tamb - May• 24•13

Smil­ing

like you or them

makes me anonymous.

Click.

 

 

 

 

 

Tam Beirne copyright

 

 

In Dreams You’re Mine

Written By: Tamb - May• 15•13

Each night I dream comfortably

tak­ing your face off with an axe:

one-two-threeing an image

that hacked into all I hold dear

under me and mine.

 

You have my back-up now.

 

In play­grounds softer than before

chil­dren still hide or hurt or lose their treat

when cap­tured by your size; but I know

what all old teach­ers know–

the fat boy always squeals when pinched.

 

Through dif­fer­ent bars I see you pull

till oth­ers spill and bleed a cut

rare for dis­clos­ing at improper time.

You have no need to break a trust

some once held safe in your hands.

 

Come, roam with me in soft­est sleep

through lul­laby and rhyme

for­ever lies a place for you

when­ever I incline.

Rest here at peace in break­ing light

bound by propriety’s way–

but I will call when dark

and with mer­est whimsy

play.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tam Beirne copyright.

 

 

 

 

Saturday Take-away

Written By: Tamb - May• 01•13

A red bull crashes through The China Palace

scat­ter­ing chips curry sauce no lice please

over those who look down.

On a shelf, Simon sim­ply says

OK’ to a woman danc­ing with a dog

and a nation takes his lead.

 

Later, in Casualty,

police­men sit chained to youths

plas­tered and unaware

of the sar­coma rendering

an out­wardly well body

ter­mi­nal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tam Beirne copyright

 

 

 

Indian Sleeper

Written By: Tamb - Apr• 22•13

To car­riage to car­riage to carriage.

 

I walked through classes like a Head

see­ing a new day open in a drawn world.

On softer bunks fat men farted and scoffed

with stained fin­gers while cov­ered women

plaited daugh­ters’ hair, preparing them

for the sta­tion they would in time arrive.

In the  lower form

I saw hun­gry young men

break­ing  into new  businesses

on line next to babies  still feeding

from empty breasts.

 

I stood on the plate with excluded men shar­ing bread and cigars

watch­ing boys play cricket in pass­ing fields.

 

 

 

 

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A Nation Groomed

Written By: Tamb - Apr• 09•13

Now then now then now then

no one can hear

lis­ten to the music:

‘There’s a kind of hush

all over the world

tonight.’

Let’s play that again.

 

Now then now then now then

sit nice

3–2-1–

Action!

Hold it

nearly done

and smile.

 

Now then now then stop it

the game’s up

everybody’s talk­ing.

Now then

set­tle down

close your eyes

not a sound.

 

 

 

 

Tam Beirne copyright