And other poems

Tuscan Italy

Under Tuscan sun
I saw the grapes grow
Watched the vines thicken
Grew fat off the land
And never noticed the plaster peeling from the ancient houses
Or the shabby splendour slowly die

Culture in our culture

That terrible burden of weekend afternoons and holidays!
Always the long hikes around museums and galleries,
stuffing oneself with stolen treasures and dead impoverished artists vision’s.
Culture – seemingly resigned to the ‘must’ and to the ‘has-been’.
Found in the waste paper basket of life,
always waiting to be fished out, rescued and ironed smooth.
Only to be passively consumed.
Never to be lived.

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