JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

Horse chestnut trees

in greening parks

behind our house

smiled down

grin grin

on children

scampering 

from swing to slide

 

I can’t believe

it’s sixty years

since chestnuts fell

clunk clunk

how we played conkers

swinging strings

bashing them

bash bash

to see

whose was strongest

 

In Slovenia

we visited

a chestnut festival

ate roasted nuts

from open grates

under the trees

while three old men

up on a stand

played  oompa  oompa

on saxophone

trumpet and drum

 

If I could tell

my life again

so spiky brown

a grin, a clunk,

a taste of burnt and sweet

I’d stand right there

and sing my song

then oompa grandpa

down the street