Room 6c

Below :
Workmen chatter, battering, repairing
Polluting the smoke filled air


She whispers her mother’s learnt prayers
Swatting a loaded mosquito, swearing the blood
Red swirl is her crimson curl, cursing
The workmen below and the dead departure


Dead :
As her starved open-mouthed child
Under the bed, in Room 6c



Harry Mills
English Bakery Boracay 4th December 2012-12-04
From : Departure Lounge

Tarnished Chrome

Pale smogish smoke over Embercombe woods
Creeps it’s slow spiral, like a glowing, smouldering
Charcoal perfumed ciborium, circling Benedictine ankles


Clamped in her two- wheeled chrome and leather coffin
Arousing penitence from pungent clinging blue incense
For his rampant incest behind ramped, iron belted doors


Now crooked leg-irons, concealed, covered with scorched blanket
Of congealed woollen fibres warping the weft, as deftly
As her dead dream to rise majestically from her wheelchair prison


A Phoenix
Arising, with pure white outstretched wings, flying free
Flying free




Harry Mills
Apartment A10 English Bakery Boracay Philippines
3rd October 2012
From: Departure Lounge

The Long Grass

Her, a special speckled fawn
Lost in the long grass of life

Camouflaged by strange shadows that dapple and mask
The truth, in an age of virgin innocence
Fluttering away into realities of sealed contracts
And sworn oaths of no return

To be hunted and taken in bitter silence
At dawn, in the long grass of life


Harry Mills
5th June 2012 English Bakery Boracay Philippines
In memory of Mejie Fernando

Love of my Life

She fumbles the graceless lace That shroud the widowed windows
That stare along the wasting wheat
To the rusting tractor, without parts
To the spindling girls, without hearts

Tommy, love of my life, don’t leave me
Don’t go to fight another man’s dream

She sits and stares
At her reflection in the fire’s cold brass fender
And sees a face that once could smile
He, rigor mortised, lies beside the brass ‘twenty pounder
He has no face to see

Tommy, love of my life, don’t die there
Don’t lie cold, alone without me

She hears a distant woodpecker, tapping
Unknown to her, his last heard sound of machine gun, straffing
That ripped open his chest full of photographs
The woodpecker stops
His work is done, his death delivered

Tommy, love of my life, i love you
Love of my life, love of my death


Harry Mills
4th June 2012, English Bakery, Boracay, Philippines
Dedicated to the widows of Tony’s Ghosts
With respect and memories for Freddy Mercury