Uploaded November 2020 | Updated September 2026, 2 weeks ago
WHEN I WAKE UP AGAIN
By P B Taylor
I
When I wake up again
The time-slip dies
Like those many of old
Under the smoking pyres
It is an absolute and a total
A disrespect for authority
It is what our reps presume
In their lonesome myopathy
They of all should and do know
But they did not, of course, the swine
Whilst we sipped the insolent gin
Whilst I, the innocent red wine
And in between we just sighed
With such confused contempt
Then I fought it and lost
And I became the disrespect
A rep for all its worth
Meant nothing to emotion
I continued to hate without respect
My man beyond contempt
II
So, I write this pathetic poem in grief
For you the once departed
I cared for you, but you did not
I even loved you once, but you could not
The university seemed so far away
Down the rolling green road
A something you never understood
In your complete sexual innocence
White they say the virgin’s called
But you were grey and wild
A something for nothing starvation
Attached to a plague on the emotions
When I wake again the tears stream
Down as rivers on a skeleton
And now I wonder on my bed
Why I do not eat.
III
You now have a crust on the world
Trying so much to be freed
Free from the shackles binding us
Now free from the spinster world
Alone and silent
Asleep and thinking
Desperate and weeping
Loving but lost
So, I came because I loved you
But did you ever realise?
Then at last you came
And you wept on alone
I met you alone, me alone as well
Wanting a friend forever you woke slow
Watching, wanting, waiting
As you had finally arrived
But then, did I want you?
Warts and all, and it was me
Trying for that something in me
As doubt confused but I wanted you
A real woman, alone in your home
Always waiting for something
Always desolate as a dream
Forever living now, and loving
London 1982 For Margaux
Phillip Taylor MBE was born in Amersham and educated at London University and the Inns of Court School of Law. His working life was spent, firstly at the BBC in London, in the Ministry of Defence and the Army, and then as a barrister at law and mediator at Lincoln’s Inn after he was called to the Bar.
He was Chairman of the Society of Civil Service Authors Poetry Workshop from 1982 to 1986 and contributed to their annual anthology FOCUS. His poems and short stories have appeared in journals, magazines and newsletters and some have been broadcast by the BBC. He has produced several poetry collections since 1972.
The Poetry Workshop was founded by Bill Barnes in 1970. It was a part of the Society of Civil Service Authors (founded in 1935) which now known as the Society of Civil and Public Service Writers.
WHEN I WAKE UP AGAIN
By P B Taylor
I
When I wake up again
The time-slip dies
Like those many of old
Under the smoking pyres
It is an absolute and a total
A disrespect for authority
It is what our reps presume
In their lonesome myopathy
They of all should and do know
But they did not, of course, the swine
Whilst we sipped the insolent gin
Whilst I, the innocent red wine
And in between we just sighed
With such confused contempt
Then I fought it and lost
And I became the disrespect
A rep for all its worth
Meant nothing to emotion
I continued to hate without respect
My man beyond contempt
II
So, I write this pathetic poem in grief
For you the once departed
I cared for you, but you did not
I even loved you once, but you could not
The university seemed so far away
Down the rolling green road
A something you never understood
In your complete sexual innocence
White they say the virgin’s called
But you were grey and wild
A something for nothing starvation
Attached to a plague on the emotions
When I wake again the tears stream
Down as rivers on a skeleton
And now I wonder on my bed
Why I do not eat.
III
You now have a crust on the world
Trying so much to be freed
Free from the shackles binding us
Now free from the spinster world
Alone and silent
Asleep and thinking
Desperate and weeping
Loving but lost
So, I came because I loved you
But did you ever realise?
Then at last you came
And you wept on alone
I met you alone, me alone as well
Wanting a friend forever you woke slow
Watching, wanting, waiting
As you had finally arrived
But then, did I want you?
Warts and all, and it was me
Trying for that something in me
As doubt confused but I wanted you
A real woman, alone in your home
Always waiting for something
Always desolate as a dream
Forever living now, and loving
London 1982 For Margaux
Phillip Taylor MBE was born in Amersham and educated at London University and the Inns of Court School of Law. His working life was spent, firstly at the BBC in London, in the Ministry of Defence and the Army, and then as a barrister at law and mediator at Lincoln’s Inn after he was called to the Bar.
He was Chairman of the Society of Civil Service Authors Poetry Workshop from 1982 to 1986 and contributed to their annual anthology FOCUS. His poems and short stories have appeared in journals, magazines and newsletters and some have been broadcast by the BBC. He has produced several poetry collections since 1972.
The Poetry Workshop was founded by Bill Barnes in 1970. It was a part of the Society of Civil Service Authors (founded in 1935) which now known as the Society of Civil and Public Service Writers.
