(By Gub, the 21st of January, 2016)
I have a Coldplay track turning
in my head, along a pitted sunlicked road
with smatterings of shadow cast by trees and
leaves swept sleepily by breeze, and sun and cows
and coarse dark cigarette smoke
circling inside the cab of the car
and you stretched out in the passenger
seat;
asleep
and this track of contentment
playing through the heat of that
Romanian
summer
and a yearning
before it could
be yearned for
that this was how it would
it always be
how I would want this moment
to last forever
and never have to say
nor end up wishing:
‘take me back to the start’
Tuesday, 26 January 2016
Spanish Mode
(By Gub, 3rd of July, 2015, Leon)
There's no second
of life
Missed
In Leon
People throng
The urban pampas
Ramble their
Selves;
Erect.
Latin elves
(In fact)
With balance
Held; archers on
Tip-toe
Jousting in their
Chosen
Footfall
With bull-fighters'
spines flex'd
Nothing entirely
Natural
But that composure
Of crowd with such
Facile flow;
Conjugated,
Yet individual.
classic
Spanish mode...
There's no second
of life
Missed
In Leon
People throng
The urban pampas
Ramble their
Selves;
Erect.
Latin elves
(In fact)
With balance
Held; archers on
Tip-toe
Jousting in their
Chosen
Footfall
With bull-fighters'
spines flex'd
Nothing entirely
Natural
But that composure
Of crowd with such
Facile flow;
Conjugated,
Yet individual.
classic
Spanish mode...
Water Belongs To Water
The infant does not belong to the water
Water belongs to water
And water is a shapeshifter
It's truth is
ice and steam
stillness and torrent
Take the infant to the water
But don't build a nursery
in the middle of the lake
Water Is Still
(By Gub, the 2nd of May 2015)
Understand less
Magic
More mystery
Life closes round us fast - enemy troops
Circle
Chide the seconds and the hours fold in
Days sliced
Back
By snap and
Wail..
Where frog
Should spawn
Spring in the bullrushes
There is only the
Short flip
Of the tadpole tail
And then the water is
Still the infant
Gone...
Understand less
Magic
More mystery
Life closes round us fast - enemy troops
Circle
Chide the seconds and the hours fold in
Days sliced
Back
By snap and
Wail..
Where frog
Should spawn
Spring in the bullrushes
There is only the
Short flip
Of the tadpole tail
And then the water is
Still the infant
Gone...
Why Sing To A Song Bird
It's a beautiful song
But why sing to a song bird
The noise, the commotion
Is the meeting of wing and cage Hapless flapping where flight should be
You chide a child for its wants
But Want is the clamping down of life's mighty jaws
The preoccupied consumption
Of a blind giant
Push away the bowl
It chews its own fingers
And yours:
Caressing
slapping
feeding withdrawing
Worrior
(By Gub, the 1st of May, 2015)
Through the years that age devours
Boredom flowers
You alternate bait
With bruise
The cause is less about the wait
Than concentric rhyme, confused
When a single want is fulfilled
I become the wanton ache Of all your desires; refused.
A challenge, a fuss, an infinite harangue
Of ‘was it ever thus’
The tantrum
Child in you
Wails
Implacable
Billowing heaps
Of mopes and sulk filled Cheeks
Streaked with rage Strutting and fomenting Battled brow
War torn
Face
I know this warrior well I have faced
His axe
His mace
There is no refuge from
His storm; once unleashed
Brings rain
The sighing drops
Of sinking silver
That streak
Down
Down
From purple
Clouds
A bellicose wind
That blows in
(And out )
An origination
That forgets
Itself
No sooner
Started
Than
Expired
And another
Day is gone
Through the years that age devours
Boredom flowers
You alternate bait
With bruise
The cause is less about the wait
Than concentric rhyme, confused
When a single want is fulfilled
I become the wanton ache Of all your desires; refused.
A challenge, a fuss, an infinite harangue
Of ‘was it ever thus’
The tantrum
Child in you
Wails
Implacable
Billowing heaps
Of mopes and sulk filled Cheeks
Streaked with rage Strutting and fomenting Battled brow
War torn
Face
I know this warrior well I have faced
His axe
His mace
There is no refuge from
His storm; once unleashed
Brings rain
The sighing drops
Of sinking silver
That streak
Down
Down
From purple
Clouds
A bellicose wind
That blows in
(And out )
An origination
That forgets
Itself
No sooner
Started
Than
Expired
And another
Day is gone
The Space Beyond The Sky
(By Gub, the 12th of December 2014)
The space beyond the sky,
(Our sky and moon)
Is blue and dark
And in deeper
Recess
Maybe glean
Some soft print
Of gossamer feet
A Sparkle instant.
Crisp and rough,
A match
Coughs across the strike-plate
Hisses into light.
So stars
Form
Burn
And go
Leave passages
Of afterlife
That exceed their
Term
Existence
Has an
Overbite.
The space beyond the sky,
(Our sky and moon)
Is blue and dark
And in deeper
Recess
Maybe glean
Some soft print
Of gossamer feet
A Sparkle instant.
Crisp and rough,
A match
Coughs across the strike-plate
Hisses into light.
So stars
Form
Burn
And go
Leave passages
Of afterlife
That exceed their
Term
Existence
Has an
Overbite.
The Shake-Up
(By Gub, the 26th of November, 2016)
That irreversible moment when the walls
closed
when the heart-beat
back flipped
and feet froze.
When nothing on earth can reverse the pain of knowing,
that coming also means going
and that life will end.
rants won't help,
and raves only hasten to expend
the breath that's left
the time unkept.
So prize what's past
and see the future as
work to be done,
for what's left for us is not a subtraction
of living
but only an opportunity to add to the present sum...
That irreversible moment when the walls
closed
when the heart-beat
back flipped
and feet froze.
When nothing on earth can reverse the pain of knowing,
that coming also means going
and that life will end.
rants won't help,
and raves only hasten to expend
the breath that's left
the time unkept.
So prize what's past
and see the future as
work to be done,
for what's left for us is not a subtraction
of living
but only an opportunity to add to the present sum...
The Great War
(By Gub, the 26th of November, 2014)
Humanity's epiphany of itself;
A rose broken from the stem,
and bodies unfolded like petals,
untimely loose and so many, so many...
that hard ground still blows dust this way;
not just men, but men upon men upon men...
Humanity's epiphany of itself;
A rose broken from the stem,
and bodies unfolded like petals,
untimely loose and so many, so many...
that hard ground still blows dust this way;
not just men, but men upon men upon men...
Where You Lay
(By Gub, 22nd of November, 2014)
Tree light and
Shadow sounds
Rustle with waking
Birds bringing to life
The soft slept ground
And empty the space
Where you lay...
Tree light and
Shadow sounds
Rustle with waking
Birds bringing to life
The soft slept ground
And empty the space
Where you lay...
Merry-Go-Round and Alarm and Delight
Merry-Go-Round
(the18th of November, 2015, Stroud)
A willow shimmies
aerial jellyfish
autumn froth
I frame a cup of black coffee
mushrooms on toast
filling a stomach
where I can't fill a heart
in some town called Nailsworth
and the wheels on your bus
go round and round
faraway drenched merry-go-round
Alarm and Delight
(by Gub, the 18th of November, 2015, Belfast)
Shards of autumn light
(the18th of November, 2015, Stroud)
A willow shimmies
aerial jellyfish
autumn froth
I frame a cup of black coffee
mushrooms on toast
filling a stomach
where I can't fill a heart
in some town called Nailsworth
and the wheels on your bus
go round and round
faraway drenched merry-go-round
Alarm and Delight
(by Gub, the 18th of November, 2015, Belfast)
Shards of autumn light
chase
the dark stalks of winter
back into their trunks
- the road mirrors the journey,
here and there patches of untried memory
mark the season's changes
with mixed volumes
of alarm
and delight ....
Virgin Surfaces and Rainbow
Virgin Surfaces
(the 18th of October, 2015, Kennington Lane)
Primary colours
(the 18th of October, 2015, Kennington Lane)
Primary colours
Industrial effort at seamlessness
Virgin set for our display of imperfection
No finely tuned machine will smooth our creases
My fingers can appreciate the hard unyielding line of the granit
But fingers were made to touch skin and
Eyes to look at eyes not neat circles on a Cath Kidston cup
I unwrap yet another pan
And remember that your arm feels so much warmer than a steel handle
In a corner
I gather cardboard and plastic - clean mess
There's other waste
this gleaming space
not yet a home
storehouse four our weekend crap
A multicoloured box for
Pandora's stifled scream
A reflection on D H Lawrence;
Will and Anna Brangwen 's Church viewing
In THE RAINBOW
(By Gub, the 18th of October, 2015, Belfast)
They stand apart,
Seeing the stones rise up.
Will's heart is with the
craft of masonry, the beams aloft plough
Furrows of wood
Strong beneath the sailing
Rafters, holding erect foursquare against the storm..
Medieval works, commissioned, purposeful
Acted out with intent,
The materials of their day
Given shape, glorifying the
Heavens and all made large by good men and true.
Anna - viewed the beams the rising arches of the roof, her eyes lifted up, but travelling through the stone vault her heart soared to the clouds above the church, to the real heaven of this material home - the symbol of Will's worship --
She felt God's presence, and not merely his inscriptions.
Will yearned to abandon
This lair, but his world was defined by wood and stone and without index there would be no measurements.
So Anna relinquished body to soul whilst Will sought soul in the body and their lives were cleft from head to toe in an unholy helix --
For the gift of sex brings separateness, and no sanctity where love lies.
A reflection on D H Lawrence;
Will and Anna Brangwen 's Church viewing
In THE RAINBOW
(By Gub, the 18th of October, 2015, Belfast)
They stand apart,
Seeing the stones rise up.
Will's heart is with the
craft of masonry, the beams aloft plough
Furrows of wood
Strong beneath the sailing
Rafters, holding erect foursquare against the storm..
Medieval works, commissioned, purposeful
Acted out with intent,
The materials of their day
Given shape, glorifying the
Heavens and all made large by good men and true.
Anna - viewed the beams the rising arches of the roof, her eyes lifted up, but travelling through the stone vault her heart soared to the clouds above the church, to the real heaven of this material home - the symbol of Will's worship --
She felt God's presence, and not merely his inscriptions.
Will yearned to abandon
This lair, but his world was defined by wood and stone and without index there would be no measurements.
So Anna relinquished body to soul whilst Will sought soul in the body and their lives were cleft from head to toe in an unholy helix --
For the gift of sex brings separateness, and no sanctity where love lies.
Sunday, 24 January 2016
Metal on Wood
(By Gub, London, 2006)
wood
passing food
master to dog
rituals - well
understood
door opens
unhook the lead
from a coat hook
excited pant;
unwritten creed
bounding park-life
chase the ball
impatient pee
on the daises
and half sniffed wall
eyes that are open
smell this world
bold and bare
a gift
that is love
already given
common yet
rare
unconditional
patting
lick-like
and half sniffed wall
eyes that are open
smell this world
bold and bare
a gift
that is love
already given
common yet
rare
unconditional
patting
lick-like
cheek
proximity of noses
proximity of noses
complete
unseek
speed of car
metal on wood
world unchanged ;
strong life
passes
death
is so weak.
unseek
speed of car
metal on wood
world unchanged ;
strong life
passes
death
is so weak.
Plumblines
(By Gub)
I’ve seen fortunes fall
Like plumb lines
Down
From a tree
Apples bounce
Arrested
By gravity’s
Baleful sea
I’ve uttered endless
Profanity
Drunken wine
By the yard
Tickled grapes a plenty
And masqueraded as a bard
But for all my ceaseless yearning
My turning of the lathe
My planning of the wood
Unsettled darkness in the cave.
I’ve sought some warmth in company
In jocular feeding of the joker’s drum
I’ve tucked, nipped, kicked some laughter
From the dumb.
For those that won’t laugh will laugh
And those that crease with tears
Will know that in the reckoning there is endless
Hurt, and wretched jeers.
There’s no escaping destiny, no jack-knifing of fate
Character is a temporary shape for consoling the wasted wantonness of the
wait.
So feel yourself more slowly, don’t rush to define your harm
The pain is ready waiting, to counteract life’s balm
And death is hollering quietly, lurking by the gate – switching head side to
side in moonlight, sweeping cowardly ghosts in his wake.
Cleave to the border of wholeness
To the thick black line on the map
To your heart, that compass of fullness
To the love the shields your back…
To the life that nature gives us, to the dogs that bound through our souls
The sheep and the fields and the woodlands and the man that carries the
coal.
And the dusk that settles each season, and the sunlight that curves with the
hour and the summer and the winter completion and the freedom with which
true spirit expires.
I’ve seen fortunes fall
Like plumb lines
Down
From a tree
Apples bounce
Arrested
By gravity’s
Baleful sea
I’ve uttered endless
Profanity
Drunken wine
By the yard
Tickled grapes a plenty
And masqueraded as a bard
But for all my ceaseless yearning
My turning of the lathe
My planning of the wood
Unsettled darkness in the cave.
I’ve sought some warmth in company
In jocular feeding of the joker’s drum
I’ve tucked, nipped, kicked some laughter
From the dumb.
For those that won’t laugh will laugh
And those that crease with tears
Will know that in the reckoning there is endless
Hurt, and wretched jeers.
There’s no escaping destiny, no jack-knifing of fate
Character is a temporary shape for consoling the wasted wantonness of the
wait.
So feel yourself more slowly, don’t rush to define your harm
The pain is ready waiting, to counteract life’s balm
And death is hollering quietly, lurking by the gate – switching head side to
side in moonlight, sweeping cowardly ghosts in his wake.
Cleave to the border of wholeness
To the thick black line on the map
To your heart, that compass of fullness
To the love the shields your back…
To the life that nature gives us, to the dogs that bound through our souls
The sheep and the fields and the woodlands and the man that carries the
coal.
And the dusk that settles each season, and the sunlight that curves with the
hour and the summer and the winter completion and the freedom with which
true spirit expires.
How Repeat
(By Gub)
How repeat
that refrain ?
what life begins
How repeat
that refrain ?
what life begins
will start again
The solitary coffee
Beneath the rain
Dropped
glass
Of the café windowpane
The glance
Aside
To the girl
With the cigarette stained
Ring Finger
And a
Smile
That aches with a thousand
Refusals
Too shy
Too vain
To sustain
A yes
The solitary coffee
Beneath the rain
Dropped
glass
Of the café windowpane
The glance
Aside
To the girl
With the cigarette stained
Ring Finger
And a
Smile
That aches with a thousand
Refusals
Too shy
Too vain
To sustain
A yes
If you could but love,
Me
What impediment would
There
Be…
To embrace
Me
What impediment would
There
Be…
To embrace
Well, earth turns
Sky blue
Clouds churn
Lights burn
Sea open
Sky blue
Clouds churn
Lights burn
Sea open
White crest cave
Gannets dive
Sun soak haze
Gannets dive
Sun soak haze
Kiss this bloody horizon
Kiss the pass
Between heaven
Between sweet sweet
Earth, pitiful place,
Humane
The want, the need
Kiss the pass
Between heaven
Between sweet sweet
Earth, pitiful place,
Humane
The want, the need
For the new to start
And the old to stop
Twist, tuck, and fold
– here is the mark,
The captive sign, the cracked smile
The over-sold grin…
Life is a dream
And dream a lie
A touched
Reality that crumples
With wholeness and
Yet defines a universe
Everything
A thing to breathe
To behold
And the old to stop
Twist, tuck, and fold
– here is the mark,
The captive sign, the cracked smile
The over-sold grin…
Life is a dream
And dream a lie
A touched
Reality that crumples
With wholeness and
Yet defines a universe
Everything
A thing to breathe
To behold
To clasp for a second
Love in a café
Sold
Every child
Reared, raised,
A subject for praise
Love in a café
Sold
Every child
Reared, raised,
A subject for praise
What flaws
Are found
Define the maze
Contradictions
Unravelled once
Again
Forgotten
moment of
Love, lust or simple
Craze
That thrust each being
Into shape
The brown-eyed glance
Across the table
The energy
Surfed
Tubular
Wave
Utter
Worship
Passion
Male adulation
Unstoppable
praise
Want
The want
Love is
Are found
Define the maze
Contradictions
Unravelled once
Again
Forgotten
moment of
Love, lust or simple
Craze
That thrust each being
Into shape
The brown-eyed glance
Across the table
The energy
Surfed
Tubular
Wave
Utter
Worship
Passion
Male adulation
Unstoppable
praise
Want
The want
Love is
A green painted gable
A flaked gold leaf
Hugging a precious
Book
Words promised
Unspoken
Poignant
Future
Intuited
Step
Together
Hold
Hands
Touch
A flaked gold leaf
Hugging a precious
Book
Words promised
Unspoken
Poignant
Future
Intuited
Step
Together
Hold
Hands
Touch
Is enough
Life force
Broken
tears
The corrupted
kiss
Love’s abuse
Innocence
Life force
Broken
tears
The corrupted
kiss
Love’s abuse
Innocence
Dies
Yes
But for
A greater beauty
Experienced
Love
Strength wounded
Yes
But for
A greater beauty
Experienced
Love
Strength wounded
Has no greater match.
Wonder Where It Went
(By Gub)
Wonder
Where
It went ?
The sad music
You speak
Of…
A past
Presence
Spent.
A door closes
On love
Unsure
Whose hand
Upon the handle
What gravity
Turns the
Lock
Whose
Where
It went ?
The sad music
You speak
Of…
A past
Presence
Spent.
A door closes
On love
Unsure
Whose hand
Upon the handle
What gravity
Turns the
Lock
Whose
Finger
Upon the key?
To answer
Such death
With life
Pledge unconditional
Love
Upon the key?
To answer
Such death
With life
Pledge unconditional
Love
Down
A generation
To snatch
Or catch
Grown-up responsibility
Such is parent grace…
Yet adult love is
A generation
To snatch
Or catch
Grown-up responsibility
Such is parent grace…
Yet adult love is
Also a child
Poor
Poor
Innocent
Love…
Tiny
Precious
Heart fired
By tinder
Smaller than a flea
Easy to kill
Day-light Stone
Weighs heavy
On our reverie
Yet if we could
Hold a fragment
A stolen thread
Of love’s early
Weave
And stitch it through
Our heart
And not our head.
Today would not be a place
We want to leave
Nor tomorrow one we
Seek to reinvent.
Love’s universe
Is time
Less
Rounded
And complete.
No greater innocence
Can corrupt
No being defeat.
From these grounds
Of earth
From this coalition
Of bees
Flowers
Are sprung
Nectar
Gathered
Harvested
Horizons
Covered
Honey
Labour of love
The worker
Bee understands
All too well
Much as he adores
A free bath
In pollen
He surrenders his sweet
Coat to his queen.
Love…
Tiny
Precious
Heart fired
By tinder
Smaller than a flea
Easy to kill
Day-light Stone
Weighs heavy
On our reverie
Yet if we could
Hold a fragment
A stolen thread
Of love’s early
Weave
And stitch it through
Our heart
And not our head.
Today would not be a place
We want to leave
Nor tomorrow one we
Seek to reinvent.
Love’s universe
Is time
Less
Rounded
And complete.
No greater innocence
Can corrupt
No being defeat.
From these grounds
Of earth
From this coalition
Of bees
Flowers
Are sprung
Nectar
Gathered
Harvested
Horizons
Covered
Honey
Labour of love
The worker
Bee understands
All too well
Much as he adores
A free bath
In pollen
He surrenders his sweet
Coat to his queen.
Backwards
(By Gub, Hilton Terrace, Bucharest the 23rd of July, 2006)
feelings filed
a-z
then scrambled
entropy
so disorder
is ordered
temporarily
only when
grounded
can we fly.
one way up
is down
two ways
are
simply
one
reversed.
so down is up
and up
down.
death is
birth
backwards
breath
-life-
inhaled
exhaled
one motion
rotated
scream
laugh
shout;
kill
kiss
cry
bliss
flexible
arithmatic
till age
make us arthritic
the brain
a sponge
for time
is down
two ways
are
simply
one
reversed.
so down is up
and up
down.
death is
birth
backwards
breath
-life-
inhaled
exhaled
one motion
rotated
scream
laugh
shout;
kill
kiss
cry
bliss
flexible
arithmatic
till age
make us arthritic
the brain
a sponge
for time
feelings filed
a-z
then scrambled
entropy
so disorder
is ordered
temporarily
only when
grounded
can we fly.
In Lieu...
(By Gub, the 18th of February, 2006, Holly Grove)
What about the dishwasher ?
Did they manage to get it fixed ?
What about the signed cheque…
Are you still vexed ?
What about all those things that are the humdrum of our lives
The dog being fed, the children’s visits, the fighting off of facial hives
What about standing in the shower – the curtain rail
Collapsing, the grass on the lawn - muddied stew,
The drains blocked, the missing sox
The patterns repeated
Hearts beating
The food
Cooked
The clothes
Unwashed
The sex
“Not had”
When sleep deprived
Work drives
Us
Apart
Together
Love lost
Another day lost
Another fuck
In lieu….
What about the dishwasher ?
Did they manage to get it fixed ?
What about the signed cheque…
Are you still vexed ?
What about all those things that are the humdrum of our lives
The dog being fed, the children’s visits, the fighting off of facial hives
What about standing in the shower – the curtain rail
Collapsing, the grass on the lawn - muddied stew,
The drains blocked, the missing sox
The patterns repeated
Hearts beating
The food
Cooked
The clothes
Unwashed
The sex
“Not had”
When sleep deprived
Work drives
Us
Apart
Together
Love lost
Another day lost
Another fuck
In lieu….
Forest
(By Gub, the 6th of February, 2004)
Blackened boughs fallen
From where they once stood.
The reaching to heaven
A former life's prayer
Proud trunks now crumble
The reaching to heaven
A former life's prayer
Proud trunks now crumble
Particles in despair.
Amidst the grey rot
The moss and so sodden bark
Life still lingers
Persuasive to the last
The wood-louse has plundered
The strength from the grain
The centipede, milled hollows
Exposed to the rain
A circus of lice,
A phalanx of ants
Chew pulp from the rafters
Of the forest's planks
I wonder and marvel
At gods hand on the lathe
He cuts and he saws and he planes and planes
But never a drop of his effort is wasted..
(the bugs and the water
will see us all pasted )
It isn't the fated hurricane that breaks the spine
But gods provident design to steal back time...
Amidst the grey rot
The moss and so sodden bark
Life still lingers
Persuasive to the last
The wood-louse has plundered
The strength from the grain
The centipede, milled hollows
Exposed to the rain
A circus of lice,
A phalanx of ants
Chew pulp from the rafters
Of the forest's planks
I wonder and marvel
At gods hand on the lathe
He cuts and he saws and he planes and planes
But never a drop of his effort is wasted..
(the bugs and the water
will see us all pasted )
It isn't the fated hurricane that breaks the spine
But gods provident design to steal back time...
Oh How I Love!
(By Gub, London, the 27th of November, 2013)
Such passion, weakens;
body and mind,
melts and conjuring
images of fallen leaves,
soft white petals
on open thighs
and quickening
breath
that catches loud
above the still
murmur of a summer
breeze.
earth scratches
slightly around
a twisted root and dew
rises
Such passion, weakens;
body and mind,
melts and conjuring
images of fallen leaves,
soft white petals
on open thighs
and quickening
breath
that catches loud
above the still
murmur of a summer
breeze.
earth scratches
slightly around
a twisted root and dew
rises
from
the ground
dampening the heat...
The clouds fall softly
on her flesh
darkening the folds
that lie beneath..
she turns again
and mouths her joy
promising a favour
for a kiss...
or to put it another way as Pablo Neruda said...
I want to do to you what spring does
with the cherry trees..
the ground
dampening the heat...
The clouds fall softly
on her flesh
darkening the folds
that lie beneath..
she turns again
and mouths her joy
promising a favour
for a kiss...
or to put it another way as Pablo Neruda said...
I want to do to you what spring does
with the cherry trees..
Cosmic Nudge
(13th of August, 2015)
The Kuiper belt
Is where
Nameless guests
Are still chewing
Nameless guests
Are still chewing
Leftovers from the
Grand Feast
Stooping
Crumbs scattered
Crumbs scattered
In the dark
If there was music
We only heard
A faint murmur
We only heard
A faint murmur
What child
Tosses his pebble
Across the pond
Across the pond
And waits for nine years
Singing herself to sleep
Reading shadows
We nudged
The God of the underworld
The God of the underworld
And when he finally turned his face towards us
Its beauty
Was carved in snow and ice
Was carved in snow and ice
Tree Wind Feather
(By Gub, 24th of January 2016)
Branches folded back;
Feathers float in the wind, flutter
and do not break.
leaves swept down wind
frozen growth capturing time's
seasoned shape - petrified memory
doesn't move - it thickens root
digs down and will not wake.
where will, will go
snow white flakes of passing down
here today, gone tomorrow...
and do not break
Branches folded back;
Feathers float in the wind, flutter
and do not break.
leaves swept down wind
frozen growth capturing time's
seasoned shape - petrified memory
doesn't move - it thickens root
digs down and will not wake.
where will, will go
snow white flakes of passing down
here today, gone tomorrow...
and do not break
Just firewood
(24th of January, 2016)
I held a picture of you
Sun-bleached hair
On that gilded throne
Of the kingdom
Of “All Is Possible”
And another
Drawn by the hands of someone who knew
The unmistakeable shape
Of your curved back
Twinned with the lonely tree that stood
On top of Herrick
The difference between you and me
Back then
Was that every hill I climbed
You had climbed many times before
I had arrived after the feast
Time, that hungry hyena
Had gorged itself
And spat out the bones of youth
We dragged its spine
And stuffed it in the trunk of our car
The black dog drew figures of eight around us
Unseen binds
I had dreams of transplanting
A forest inside the living-room
That day
Did we stack the building-blocks of memory?
No.
Just firewood.
I held a picture of you
Sun-bleached hair
On that gilded throne
Of the kingdom
Of “All Is Possible”
And another
Drawn by the hands of someone who knew
The unmistakeable shape
Of your curved back
Twinned with the lonely tree that stood
On top of Herrick
The difference between you and me
Back then
Was that every hill I climbed
You had climbed many times before
I had arrived after the feast
Time, that hungry hyena
Had gorged itself
And spat out the bones of youth
We dragged its spine
And stuffed it in the trunk of our car
The black dog drew figures of eight around us
Unseen binds
I had dreams of transplanting
A forest inside the living-room
That day
Did we stack the building-blocks of memory?
No.
Just firewood.
Friday, 22 January 2016
Christmas, dark
(London, 24th of Dec 2015)
Christmas, dark
Fused the spark
Woke with the howling
wind
Memory
A frozen street
Crackling snow and
heart beat
Saw her face
Working-girl grace
Fireworks and smoke
Bride bespoke
What irks and
separates us
Bejwelled nails
Polyester plaids
The tribal things
I type a poem
Love totem
On my designer sofa
(No jumping!)
New childhood has
dirty feet
And knows not
The taste of first
sleet
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