Beginnings

(By Sil, June, 2009, London)

Of beginnings without heartbeat:
I am thrust into motion
Cat yanked awake from drowsy stupor.
What shall I tell you?
How do we begin
When it feels like
Whenever our eyes lock in steel gaze
I rediscover you – a stranger

Are we just being born
Moment by moment
Each new task
A new entering into the world
Without a midwife

Choking on fluid fear
No wonder I don’t breathe
No wonder being with me
Feels like riding an underground train
Jerk. Speed up. Slow down. Stop. Wait.
Breath again.

Fear Manifesto

(By Sil, the 3rd of June, 2010, London)

Passive,
I’d rather be the strapped-in passenger,
Not the sightless driver
Manoeuvring
Into the night of destiny
Even if it means
Even if it means
I am handing over the controls.

Heavy-eyed,
I rather mash the view in soft focus
Than stay alert
To the hazard-yielding panorama of being
Even if it means
Even if it means
I’m sleeping my life away.

Slow,
I’d rather toddle along the bridle path
Not race
On the highways of ambition
Where speed is the blood of direction
Even if it means
Even if it means
I never arrive.

Thrust into the driving seat
Too young
Feet dangle above the pedals
Gaze below the mirrors
My body
A car with no controls
To the brim filled with the fuel of fear
Clamps down.
I crash
On the unforgiving turns of life.

The Beduin Wedding Dress

(By Sil, Dahab, Egypt, December 2008)

This black canvas
Covered in loud cris-cross
Mis-matched pattern
Red thread and un-stiching seams
The lost-and-found lace
Infantile search for beauty
It will fall apart, surely
Made by impatient young hands
You can look too close and
Your examining eyes can tear it apart
Such fragile prettiness
Femininity in a black desert

Still

(By Sil, the 28th of May, 2010, London)

Trying to escape
Dog gets electric shock
After electric shock
Eventually it learns to
Just lie there and give up
The pain is in the doing
So it won’t do
Nothing can go wrong
When lying still
So it lies still
In stillness
She is free from punishment
The stillness – cage within the cage
Thus the lesson in helplessness
Is learned

When Parents are Bereft of Woe, Weary Lines, Laughter Cracks and The Step

When parents are bereft of woe

(By Gub, London, the 5th of September 2006)

When parents are bereft of woe

They’re dead, or slack, to life’s beat

Children jump on an open sheet

Fly off the bed

Break their feet.

Worry the burden of age,

The strife

Of begetting things

That carry lice.

That shout, that call

Moan.

Too large, too short

Too much,

Groan.

Summon, despise, despatch

In an instant

The sermon that took years

Precious hours of research

Dismiss with a burp

Well intended

care.

Raid the fridge

Attack the dog

With the bread-knife.

Little love

Little loss

The passing of the cross

We met again

Adults all, recall with gloss…

Till they bear pups

Which berate and bark

They have no inkling

Of the cycle

The dragging

Of the smaller self

Through the cold night

The muddied grass

Of urban park.

But meet and pass

As generation must

Carve initials in the bark

Remember the tree

Embraced by all

Surround together

Both large and small

Child, adult

Life’s a game

At half-time

Switch ends

Play on

For sure

Those who bat today

Must tomorrow

Catch the ball…

Weary lines

(By Gub, 4th of March, 2007)

Weary lines

Wake the face

Crimp-eye

Light blind

Vision

Dawn intruder

Day….

Comes

To test

The Faith

Pictures

Flown from

Memory

Recoil

Against

The frame

Child with toast

End of the bed

Grins

Selfless

Butter

Drips

On the counterpane

Corner

Of a calico

Curtain

Brush

Of leaf on wood

Cow lows

Sore sound

Fields

Distant

Mushrooms

Damp

Rise

Brown

Forest

Food

Sparks fly

From farmyard

anvil

TV screen flashes

Blue, cars light up

road

Night

Winter

Snow

Life so young

Should be good.

School waits

Small learning

adulthood

Sex begins

Won’t stop

Deep

Too deep

Childhood

Sleeps

Coursens

The pulse

Veins

That swell

Water drips

Dark

Darker

Into

The

Brown

Depth

Of time’s

Well

Morning recovers

Night’s bruises

Daylight

Smothers

The pale imprint

Of fingered

Excuses

The stifle

Cry

Of woken eye

The nightmare

Came

Re-told

becomes a lie;

a dare too far

refused.

Laughter cracks

(By Gub, the 12th of March, 2007)

Laughter cracks against

Wood

Playground frame

Father’s day

Stolen hours,

Tired,

Misunderstood.

Smiles crease

Fingers freeze

March’s shuttlecock

Bats winter back and forth

Teases

Spring’s release

An unseasoned marriage

Between sun and gold

Fun and cold

Mirth, grief….

Mood stalks

Youth

Deer’s hoof

Dappled light

Darkening wood

Hunters spear.

Heart

Hurt glare

Parents in

Separate

Spheres

Conjure

Bleak

Dissolution

Of innocence

River

Winds

Stitches bind

Life, purpose,

Irrepressible

Intent

Child’s voice

Falls

Captive

To a greater will

The future

Re-invents.

The broken oaks

Crack down

Wind spent

Cling for a

Season or two

Fall

On the forest floor

Green shoots

Permeate

Debris

Small heads rise

High

Not just surviving

But the better

To see…

The Step

(By Sil, HBC, July 2009)

Un-toiled labour

Un-heard sobs

Un-seen first steps

And un-fought swords

All time that passed

All years un-lived

Film reeled in the dark

In silent shift

And now you demand, you command

You are lost and I reprimand

Un-mother and un-child

Itched by unbearable chafe that we cannot un-fight

And oh! How it does bother

The step

The UN-SUR-MOUNT-ABLE step

Step

Son

Step

Mother

Love poems written in Romania

Curvature

(By Gub, Bucharest, September 2003)

The arch of your

Back

The curl

Of your toe

Open mouths

Wet lips

Hips

Circling

Slow

Senses

Warm

Calm

Nerve

Balm

No fracture

No division

Unity

Precision

Love

Made slow

Eyes

Meet

Worlds welded

Complete

And hours later

When we part

Pubic hair

Like

Velcro

Echoes

The

Gentle

Tearing

In my

heart

Is love real

(By Gub, Bucharest, September 2003)

The love that you feel

Is it real ?

When you touch

My skin

Pull me in,

Absolve my sin

Is this a fantasy

Of fact ?

Or phantom

Fancy ?

Truth aches

Uncertain

Which way

To go

The will

To embrace

The fabric

Of love

To pull on the

Mantle of an

Others beauty

The elegant

Textiles

Of desires

Construction

To wear

Our souls

With deep

Comfort

And eae

Or is loive

Just a vain

Attempt to

Please

Our empty

Egos ?

I see your eye

Reflect the light

The contraction

Of my love

To a tiny bsize

So fragile

So small

All expansive

All sense

Compressed

Into a

Miniature ball.

You hold

Me

Now

A particle

Of sand -

A fragment

Of history

In your hand

Will you

Clasp me

Close

Guard me

Still ?:

Or dust me

Off

Into the

Desert

Of free will ?

The circle

(By Gub, September 2003, Bucharest)

I have no hope

To heal

History

No spark

Or flame

To light the fire

By which to steer

My tired ship

The sea moves

Silent

Beneath this

Static hull

A surf-less

Surface

Lit

With grey

Sky

Numb dull

Clouds

Slip

Listlessly

By

Sails limp

With damp

Air

This is no new

Horizon

No promised

Land

The world is flat

Contrite

With feeling

Polished mantle

Of azure ocean

Stretches

Endless

A blue

Desert

With no

Sand

Above the sea

The sky is stiller

Still

A forest

Canopy

Of concrete

Clouds

Sit solid

Unbroken shadows

Refuse to crack

Refuse to rustle

Lifeless

In the breeze

This space

A spaceless

Heaven

No stars

Shine

In this moonless

Cavern

What hope

Stirs

Is soon

Crazed

With unhinged

Purpose

A groan

Rumbles

In the lowest

Depth

A volcano

Erupts

With frozen

Magma

Speak less

Of life

And more of living

Life is a word devoid

Of

Meaning

But act;

Protract

Or contract

Some shape

Some feeling

Grab the handrail

Of the sinking vessel

The breached bow

Of fallow years

Gulp the air

Though still and stale

The smallest particle

Confesses fear

There is no deception

Age marks

Lines

On the youngest face

Embrace that breeze

That fills the sails

It is born

In a different place

Travel is the measure

Of our journey

- move

As we must

From place to place

Life is the

Motion

That begins

And ends the

Human race.

Describe a circle

Touch lightly

The contours

Of your hand

Hold the air for

A fleeting

Second

Still

Now

The quiet

Of living

The shifting

Of time

Each day the sea

Moves

It’s own

Weight

In sand.

When you touched

(By Gub, Romania, 2003)

When you touched

This skin

And closed me tight

And whole

Within your body

You spared the world

Some bitter

Pain

When you tucked

Me tight

Under your wing

And sucked me dry

And drew me in

You closed

A door

On darkness

Switching

On a light

You withdrew

The bite

That threatened

Sight

And

Ribbons caught

Beneath the buckle

The waistcoat

Muffled

Tight

Love is a passing

A human gasping

A roll of dice

A cancered lottery

Of untold flight

One soars

One boars

What charges

Upward into night.

We may have felt

The ruffled quiver

The besmirched

Mirror

The hour-glass

Reception

Of time

Wither

But standing

Out,

Proud alone,

The embarrassed

Groan

The collective tither

Love wrestles this

And that

A Laundromat

Of unwashed

Feeling

We seek for gain

We contort

Our hearts

And smile with pain

We grow smaller

Darker by the hour

When sunblest

We stand

Before the light

The penetrating apostle

Of lovers sight

To stand and proclaim

That pain is shame

That bottling up our ardour

Is tantamount

To a cold shower

Easily done in moments

Of mirth

We measure the earth’s crust

Turn

It’s rusty girth

But human touch

Human hope

We pray

That is real…

The moonlight shines

On the valley below

The rattle the garble

Of the cows lowing

The life that cups

The cradle

The candle that glows

The hand that rocks

The infant

Fearless

Of woe

I wish I could paint that face

That distant parent, the shadow of grace

Who stands like a tombstone

Over the womb,

Who overs succour

In the shadow

The gloom

And there amidst the agony

Of night

That gentle smile

That love labours

As the mother reaches

The father teaches

Stands

Forlorn

In the

Spring felt

Dawn,

The passage of

Time measured

Between death

And being

And being unborn

The wind rushes

A brush

Amongst trees

easing its passing

With the abandonment of leaves

And the tucker that falls on the forrest

Floor

Is an adornment of riches

A pasture of acorns,

From which

The bugs

The molluscs

Primeval

And unsown

Will tunnel

With wisdom

Will outlive

Man’s

Homegrown.

I smelt the dark rot

Of the wood’s acid core,

I watched the louse

Crawl, symmetrical

And small,

Barked back

Battalions

Of scouring might

Creatures

Of thoroughness

Blind, insight.

The hovering motion,

The circles

Engrained

Regimented

Circumnavigation

No cortex, no brain,

But in travelling half-distance

In pacing the same

No parliament,

No secretions

Of greed, or ill gain

Nature most

Bold

Most simple

Bereft of recall

The burying of arrows

Of bow-strings unstrung

Of hymnals unhitched

From the saddle

Of belief

From the harnass

From the gun

What insight we seize

From vision, what illusion

We are spared

When we consider

The wood-louse

The heir-loom

Of life

Human destiny

Spared…

I only wish

(By Gub, Jan 6th 2004)

I only wish I was pressing snow beneath my feet,

On a cold winter climb,

Up a cobbled Sibiu Street.

I only wish I could hold your face,

Cup your smile,

Squeeze your red raspberry lips

Between my chattering teeth.

Snow storms in the

Flickering light,

Flakes float

FleetingInto night.

Heating body, blood and soul,

Your love's hot cocoa to my heart

Your very being;

Spiritual coal...

Whistful

(By Gub, London, the 24th of June 2004)

Whistful, wanton

Wish

The blessing of a kiss.

If you would only

Open

Those eyes

Flash lashes

At the sky

See opulent

Colours

Spring to life

Press

Fresh

Reddening

Lips

Against

Alabaster skin

And sigh.

The deep

Breathless

Heat

Of summer’s

Past

The burning

Glory of sleep-filled

Dreams

The life we live

Before we die.

The body that you bare

The round full

Curves

Of tender

Flesh

The sudden rush

blood,

Swollen nerves

Flexing tendons

Sweat

Wept

Dry.

The image

Of that half drunk

Form

Draped

Seaweed

Across

Rounded

Stone.

vision

Born

By birth

The thirsting

Thrust

Of a waving form

Crashes

When you speak

(By Gub, London, the 28th of July, 2004)

When you speak

You pass

Green daises

That turn to grass

You usher sunshine

Into dark places

Your smile

Resonates

Echos

Joy

In the deepest recesses.

But when your voice

Is silent

When your

Tongue is closed

Tight around

Your gum

The day returns

To night

The world

Is glum

Speak now

whatever

Is in your mind

Your heart cannot betray

Thoughts that pass

Unuttered

Stark

And grey.

The bolder of

That stillness

Is only the nightmare

Of what you will not say.

The shadows

That we box

The half-lit

Candle

Pulls

Menace from the corner

My Souls courage

Stalls.

What are

The thoughts

That shudder

That curdle

From the grave ?

The sallow

Tainted face

This mystery

Is my knave

Wish that I could fight him

Wrestle him to the ground

That bloody unspoken

Feeling

That life

Will not confound.

When love is calling

Blindly

When hope is on its way

The universe

Shines so brightly

We are lifted from the fray.

But when the love

We’re close to

Slackens

And fear comes in its wake

All our senses wither

A heart upon a stake.

The blood that feeling

Calls for

The sacrifice

Of lies

From which love promised a gracious

goodbye

Becomes the thing despised.

How can such greatness

Falter ?

How can love become

undone ?

It is this silence

Which steals

Our former

greatness

Words collapse

Unspoken

False

Calm

Before the storm

And speaking

Nought of nothing

Isolation is reborn….

Christmas Song and Shimmer

Christmas song

(By Sil,  the22nd of December, 2009, HBC)

If I could portion happiness in perfect shapes of ginger dough

And offer wishes wrapped in crispy paper

If I could line my soul in tinsel forever gold

And hear angels sing - would I still feel a leper?

I yearn to celebrate in faith the birthday his Son

But with this hapless friend it’s long since I have spoken

Have you forgotten – would you even sign a card

Or are you tired of my hectoring, my Lord?

Shiny flecks shimmered of fairies against dirt

Amongst moon-flowers and garlic beds – beauty or gaudy disco-light?

I believed in crumbs of divine scattered shards

Cell-mate and soul-mate, we cannot share in tiny delight

We’re left to search a way through the holy jumble

Fractured by the weight of wonders we cannot see

Are you and I overlooking the fact that

The world is a puzzle that also assembles in 4D?

I would gather the sparkle of a thousand Christmas trees

To shine enough brilliance deep into your weary heart

Stocked up on your beam s and roasted in glow of love

I would be at your side till winter’s end, my most affiliated bard.

Shimmer

(By Gub , 26th of December, 2009, HBC)

Millennia presses coal

In hidden seams

Diamonds’

Eventual

Gleam

We strive to meet our goal.

Dig deep beneath the fallen snow

Powder light

Glistens

And crystals

Glow

Seasons

Come

Shorter sense in meaning

Celebrations hard won.

Transform ice to water

Adorn the rafters with

Festive lace

Spin webs

With flowers

Pinecones

Ribbons red

The house glitters

Inside the sun

Such godly

Imitations

Flatter nature into reason

Close the gap

Between belief

In Love

And all that’s left unsaid

And all that’s left undone.