ONE FLOWER FROM ANOTHER

by David Subacchi

I confess that I cannot
Tell one flower from another
Except for: Roses
Grown by my grandmother
Daffodils the symbol
Of my adopted nation
Bluebells that grew
In woods behind my school
Dandelions in the park
That I was forbidden
To pick on pain
Of awful consequences
Violets after cheap sweets
In paper wrappings
Tulips because they
Came from Amsterdam
Carnations from weddings
Primroses from the river bank
Near where I fished
Something pink called
Our Lady's Slipper
That my mother loved
Snow drops for some
Long forgotten reason
And water lilies
Floating

THE SAME SPACE

by David Subacchi

Half a century within the same space
Inside medieval town walls
Long since demolished
Within sight of castle
And parish church
The sound of town clock bell

Pigs were once driven
Along this street to market
A chapel, undertaker
And print works
Have gradually given way
To residential units

A cobblers and gun shop
Are also no more
The rear yard of a hotel
Is a car park for shop workers
And those who visit the bookmaker
Cars only pass one way

Half a century within the same space
Raised voices at night
From emptying taverns
Wind blowing bottles
Along pavements and gutters
Sighing between the chimneys.