Author: Ash Cheyne

I'm a Scot living in New Zealand. I write stories and poetry and experiment with photography, I have just finished a novel called "A Genuine Mistake."

15

It is constantly on my mind

all the memories

that’ll be left behind






The old girl





that we’ve all played





one way or another










She’s sounding and looking





a bit thin these days





not offering up as much





as in the good times





of which there were a few










When every mistake





was so very hard to take





going back to the start





with a heavy heart





questioning the need and 





driving us out of our minds










Can’t buy you love he would say





money





Never enough to spoil the party





exactly










If only he were here to see





the way it is in the end





when a lifetime depends 





on how it is recalled










True or false










Right or wrong










These four walls









©Ash Cheyne 2021





 

	


	



			
				


			

			
Ships in the Night
		
	
	

		



Uma meets Sam Hunt at a gallery in Wellington 2014.
I imagined him reading it aloud as I was writing it.







He met a girl called Uma





once upon a time





when words you could touch





and liked very much





were written by hand





no need









To rhyme














She met a man called Sam





who said he once knew





a girl called Uma





as he held us in the palm





of his hand





to understand





why some of us are here





or perhaps not









I forgot









They met each other





surrounded by art





by Frizzell





in the form of words





playing a part














Together









In a sea of talent





above and beyond





like a brief dreamy delight





as Yates once said









This can’t be the end





of a beautiful friend





ships in the night





beyond belief.









© Ash Cheyne 2021






	


	



			
				


			

			
Adeline
		
	
	

		






He thinks he sees her





at the exhibition of surrealist dreams





perfect hair flowing serenely





through the semi darkness





shining at times





amongst the curious visitors





on opening day









Alone in solitary thoughts





messages that matter





in her back pocket





not like Magritte





more like reality





on a Sunday afternoon









Beautiful memories invented





unreal





dissolving before us





like words and pictures





shared dreams in boxes









He waits for her at the end





unsure of his persistence





of memories that never were





after all those years









Still miles away














©Ash Cheyne 2021

	


	



			
				


			

			
Sunset 92
		
	
	

		






Going down to a familiar place 





where it’s easy to see nothing 





at all not even 





some sense of reality









Remembering the first time





little virgins eating ice cream





in the middle of the night









Little Tokyo drinking tea in mugs





with no handles in the day









Being told about the importance





of good teeth





not the danger





of fermented fruit with vodka





and dancing with strangers





as Sinatra sings for 50 cents





from the juke box of a biker bar









Having nothing really stupid to say





about a fake drive by





or someone’s Grandma





getting kicked out of the bath





on account of some drunk British guys





springing a bladder surprise









Indiscretions in phone booths





or jay walking in bare feet





sitting next to Pfeiffer





then  sniffing her seat









Looking back from the Griffith





and up at it all





observing from the brighter stars





that it’s all over now














 © Ash Cheyne 2021 

	


	



			
				


			
				


			

			
Sydney
		
	
	

		








No real surprise that





flights were all cancelled





cause of the wind in the night 





that made us feel like the house 





could be airborne any minute









Or was that the glorious wine 





from Patrick’s private collection 





that he brought to the stormy dinner?









It was a long weekend 





not for shortening





so we took a cab back into town 





had breakfast in Joes Garage





then crossed the road to see





what Warhol had to say





pretending we had arrived 





without a hitch.









Rain like in the movies 





straight down





and bouncing off the concrete





like we were





at the thought of being together





in Manu’s restaurant 





in record stores





sharing spells with witches





and vodka martinis at Morrisons









Late in the evening 





home in the early morning







© Ash Cheyne 2017

	


	



			
				


			

			
Someone
		
	
	

		








Everyone is someone 





way or another









It’s a question of whether or not 





you’re bothered about the others









or what someone else makes of it all





when they take a bad fall









and need someone else to blame





for what they never became









No one can get away from that





as we’re all famous for fifteen minutes





for good or bad













It’s all the same










© Ash Cheyne – 2021








	


	



			
				


			

			
Paris –  Riot City Bleus
		
	
	

		



This was the calm before the storm. Paris had been ground to a standstill by striking workers. 





Stepping out of the beauty of the Musee d’Orsay, I got very different impressions at the site of “tooled up” Gendarmerie waiting for a riot. I took some shots of the peaceful demonstrators and the armed police with my iphone and posted them online. 





They all mysteriously vanished but fortunately I had my Nikon with me.










© Ash Cheyne – 2020








	


	



			
				


			

			
Fake
		
	
	

		








Fake it till you make it with that tan 





you didn’t have yesterday









Making all the fake news





spraying it across the media





between adverts for platform trainers





that you can’t run in 





unless it’s in an election 









Where there are only two clowns





you can vote for





who make each other look good 





yet no one is laughing









Someone call the cops 





in the middle of the night





and stop the circus 





before the big top 





comes crashing down









Or let’s just all head to the ocean 





and feel the spray





for real.










©Ash Cheyne – 2019