Poetry by Stuart McFarlane
I REMEMBER
Seven, maybe eight,
I remembered a windy day long ago;
blue sea stretching forever to the sky.
Seagulls wheeling, buckets and spades;
and all our running in the sand.
I remember remembering that.
Thirteen, maybe fourteen,
I remembered when I heard
the 'Beatles' 'Help'*, or maybe, nine or ten,
for, I believe, the very first time.
And how it sounded different then;
How it sounds darker now.
Twenty-nine, maybe thirty,
I remembered how life once
seemed like an empty journal;
all the pages still unwritten.
Now it is full of words,
scrawled in indelible ink.
Yesterday, it was,
I remembered things I'd said
and wished I hadn't;
things I'd thought forgotten;
quite a litany of regrets.
I remember remembering that.
MY PAST LIFE
Having arrived at Heaven's gate
I found a queue, so had to wait;
a curious angel there enquired
about my past life, not long expired.
'Had I enjoyed this life of mine?'
'It helped', said I, 'to pass the time'.
Stuart McFarlane is now semi-retired. He taught English for many years to asylum seekers in London. He has had poems published in a few online journals.
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