Monday, 18 March 2019

She I Love

Toll the great bell that shakes the tower,
Sing dirges and requiems hour by hour,
Weep at the graveside on bended knee
   For she I love does not love me.

After years of silence and grim contempt,
Gone thin of face, with hair unkempt,
I drift on the tide like a bottle at sea
   For she I love does not love me.

My letters unanswered and e mails unread,
With no way to say what longs to be said,
I stare in a mirror and shout brutally
   That she I love does not love me.

On the far side of town she blooms like a rose,
Her suitors aflame for her hair and pert nose;
I shuffle through streets telling each dog and tree
   That she I love does not love me.

Chant absolution and incense the dead,
Bury each thought and foul word ever said;
Pay the priests to say Masses eternally
   For she I love does not love me.

====================
© January 2015
 

Tuesday, 12 March 2019

A Dead Fox

This poem records precisely what I saw on my usual early morning walk one Sunday. It must have been a strange sight - a grown man bent over a gruesomely distorted dead fox, painstakingly recording in his notebook the bloody details of the fox's wounds: the neighbourhood sadist perhaps?
   The poem is in unrhymed iambic tetrameter - a strange choice for such a fact-based poem but I wanted to see how it would work out.

-----------------

A deep-mist January morn
In half-dark gloom at 8.00am,
Frost speckling stones and pockmarked mud:
The road-verge grass was long and slumped,
Bright green and sprightly due to recent
Unseason rains, though dappled now
With heavy water drops condensed
From the night-ice air. A fox lay dead,
Stretched in the grass like a flung scarf;
Car-struck, its wounds were palpable.
Impossibly, its flattened tail
And both hind legs were splayed at angles
Like the three-legged emblem of the Isle
Of Man. And bursting from its backbone
Were blood-bright curlicues of flesh,
Gleaming and firm like butcher’s mince.
Again, atop its ribcage, clots
Of flesh extruded, streaked with mucus
And veined with black congealing blood.
A large bone, dull as ivory,
Its jagged end like hacksawed splinters,
Protruded from the breast, a clot
Of meat, like bloodied piled meringue,
Clinging about it. A swart eye
Had split, filling the socket with
A plug of lumpy off-white jelly
Which also clogged the tear-duct on
The rigid snout. Its jaw was open,
The teeth sunk in a browning froth
Of blood, although the lower canines
Rose clear and savage, dagger-curved
As wind-sculpt rock. An adult thing,
Three feet in length, its fur was stubby,
Much disarranged mid-body where
The darker fur, gone scabby, showed
The black-dust skin beneath. All else
Was chestnut-brown, except the belly
Where soft-cream hair was almost catlike.
The fox’s thin front legs lay crook’d,
Its blackly-mounded pads like quilts,
The sight of them suggestive that
It merely slept, and yet the purple
Starkness of arterial blood
Was proof enough that death had triumphed.
The blow some car had struck had burst
Its body, flinging it to land
Like fly-tipped waste among the grass.
Then what use was its pinpoint vision,
Able to home a field-mouse in
A hazel bush’s night-time depths
But stymied on a silent road
Past midnight by the sudden scream
Of car or truck, with headlights sousing
Its flexing sight and camouflaging
The bullet motion which in seconds
Exploded as a cuffing death,
Those yellow eyes, grape-wide, failing
To penetrate the raucous dazzle?
There’s sadness in that creature’s death,
Its fine fettle of fur and brush
Reduced to seething carrion;
Relief as well its constant goad
Of hunger, sting of parasites,
And iron-hearted breeding itch
Are stilled; its fellow fox or crow
Remorseless, though, will tear its body
To a motley lump of raw-flesh pickings
Unless the roadman with a shovel
Take it up with the other trash,
And sink it in his rubbish heap.

====================
© January 2015

Thursday, 21 February 2019

On the Duties of State

The reference in the seventh stanza is to Charles Dickens's last complete novel, 'Our Mutual Friend,' in which Mr Boffin inherits a fortune in the shape of several dust heaps - and in the industrializing society of Dickens's day dust could be turned into money.
   Those interested will note that two different stanza shapes alternate. This was not the result of planning; I misread my notes and wrote the second stanza to a different shape from the first and then decided to make a virtue of a mistake. In the first stanza the fourth line is a hexameter and the seventh line a tetrameter. These then reverse in the second stanza and so on. The stanzas are bound together throughout the poem by the final word of the fourth line in one stanza becoming the first rhyme of the following stanza. For symmetry's sake the final word of the fourth line in the last stanza rhymes with a stand-alone final line which is a hexameter (perhaps for super-symmetry's sake it should have been a tetrameter; I still can't decide).

-------------------------

   I feel it still, that shock like scalding oil,
   Searing my flesh from scalp to burning shins;
   My father’s death before my eyes, chest-grabbed
By thrombosis, had led a damn-fool doctor to
   Warn me that I’d be next, that death begins
   In family genes, and neither fit nor crabbed
      Might buck arteries clogged with spoil.

   At eighteen, wary of what others knew,
   That jeremiad like a crack of doom
   Knocked me to breakdown like a walking ghost:
      I kept my bed till well past noon,
   Sweated if others came into a room,
   Struggled at work, my thoughts blunt as a post,
Expected, daily, chest-wrench pain, my face gone blue.
 
   Disjoint, as if stunned by a full-glow moon,
   My GPs palmed me off like stolen goods;
   I found myself with taut-faced others in
A hospital psychiatrist’s consulting rooms;
   For thirty minutes we batted “don’ts” and “shoulds”;
   Prescribing pills, advising me to grin,
      He sent me out, neurosis-strewn.

    And forty years have fallen like dead blooms.
   Bow-tied, pin-suited, in his fifties, neat,
   A mittel-Europe accent and clipped ways,
      He seemed a Freudian at war
   With his convictions; the winnowed wheat
   Of talking therapy, the healing gaze,
Dutifully dropped for a drug regime’s blunt brooms.

   My unfound dreams of making bricks from straw,
   Great art from dusty streets and half-read books,
   Brutal as Wagner, suave as Henry James,
Were punctured by his caution that a happy life
   Lay more in a safe job, a wife’s plain looks,
   Small expectations of art’s thrills or fames:
      Beneath-breath scornful, how I swore!
 
    But now in age, with conscience like a knife,
   Despairing of my brag, scorched-earth CV,
   My art a drawerful of much-scribbled scraps,
      And women’s love a thing so strange
   That lovers, wife, a daughter, had to flee
   The dead zone of my psyche’s crumpled maps,
Ambitious but unstable as a wave-hit cliff,

   I know that neat bowtie told truth – the range
   And rage of ego’s lust to sink its ounce
   Of gimcrack art in Boffin’s rubbish mounds,
There to wait gawps of wonder when exhumed one day,
   Destroys content, that modesty which once,
   Duties of state embraced, set social bounds
      To art’s vamping and self-exchange.

    Too late for me, there’s nothing I can pay
   To regain entry in that happy breed
   Of middling house, a wage, a settled set
      Which limits but a scope confers;
   Of wives and neighbours tutting someone’s deed,
   Of children college-thriving though in debt;
Old age and illness looming in a quiet way.

   Yes, even that psychiatrist, so terse
   And blocked at work, went home to warmth and worth.
   But I? My duties of a colder sort,
My state a desktop peopled by unruly words,
   My teenage hurts now ashes in the hearth,
   I wander rooms as frugal as a fort,    
      A bird entrapped, though in my verse

I sing like sweet-song finches to the other birds.

====================
© January 2015
 



Tuesday, 19 February 2019

December Robin

In churchyard gloom, mid-afternoon,
   The gravestones lean in lichened sleep,
Blanched leaves of oak in drifts are strewn,
   The cold-stunned birds their secrets keep.

Except the robin, oxide-chested,
   Arrant on a wet beech branch,
Carolling the sun, now wested,
    Filling his lungs from beak to haunch.

Shortly, the evening frost will crisp,
   And darkness like a gulf will fall,
His song will palter to a lisp,
   And snow in flurries start to maul.

Long hours he’ll roost, his claws on ice,
   Hid in some yew or holly bush,
His feathers fluffed in cold’s chill vice,
   One eye will track the night’s deep hush.

Come day he’ll hurl his song again,
   Mate-enticing, ferrous-bright,
Shrugging off wind and sleeting rain,
   Aflame upon his beech-tree height.

====================
© December 2014
 
 

Monday, 28 January 2019

The Sycamore Tree

This sycamore tree has appeared in other of my poems. A magnificent mature specimen, extremely tall and alarmingly flexible during high winds; sadly, as a result, it is no more. This 120 line poem in heroic couplets records my observation of the tree, specifically on Saturday 22 November 2014 between 8.15 am and 8.20 am. The first section describes the tree and the birds I saw; the second section meditates on the connections of all things in the Cosmos; the third section returns to the birds and their winter suffering and concludes with a Samuel Johnson anecdote. Doctor Johnson's sympathy for the poor and his night time walks through the London streets, driven by his insomnia, are well-recorded. Since first reading it, I have always been touched by this anecdote - his retort is quintessential Johnson.
 
--------------
 
The sycamore – a fair field full of folk –
Stood calm against a sky like watered yolk;
The late November gales of previous days
Had gone their way and left a muslin haze
Which strained the morning-primrose, gin-taut air
And left a dust of damp on skin and hair.
Before men’s hives had throbbed to busy life
I heard a robin shrilling on its fife
And glancing up was gripped by Langland’s tale
Embodied in that tree’s now drab sangrail:
Its leafage, yellowed, browned, and stained like teeth
Had mostly fled to die upon the heath
So that its clutching branches like a whale’s
Dark ribs, grey-grained and wet, strung round with brails
Of cream-splashed lichen, now emerged to sight
And through their clerestory the morning light,
Shut out since spring, shone through and lit the scene
On which a birds’ commedia would begin.
Able again to perch within the tree’s
Great bowl, the birds intensely searched its screes
For slugs or mites, or merely sought to rest
Awhile, winter-shabby and hunger-pressed.
At top among the bare new-fingered growth
The spiv-like starlings jitterbugged, uncouth;
They whistled rudely, barged for dance-floor space –
Pomaded threadbares, glib and sharp of face.   
As high but shunning that licentious crowd
A John Bull robin swelled his chest, red-loud;
Buff-coated, breeches starched, he shook his frame
With shouts to glory and contempt of shame.
Beneath, like Dante’s wind-whirled souls, great-tits
Hied through the tree, keening with wind-crazed wits;
Like gem-green sparks they flared and tumbled till,
Edge-gathered, they were fate-flung from the sill.
Beneath again, a stiff Beau Brummell jay
Ruffed its fawn suitings in a foppish way;
Pained by the tits’ unearthly chatterings
It haughtily decamped on blue-jewelled wings.
It left two magpies hunched like scheming waiters
In work-shined black-suit livery and gaiters;
Felicitous, they sidled through the boughs
With bill-stilettos and untruthful brows.
Lowest were pigeons pleased to be ignored
Like meek Salvationists who loathed a crowd;
Greyly unkempt like parcels loosely tied,
Hourly unclaimed, they shelf-sat, satisfied.

Sunday, 27 January 2019

A Cherry Tree Observation

Late November and the weather turned cold;
The roadside cherry trees all shed their hold
   On their famished, twisted flame-brown leaves;
   Wind-disordered they fell in sheaves,
      Though denied settlement
      As cars came and went.        

A white Ford Focus kept its place a week
And therefore grew a leaf-skin, matt and sleek;
   In its roof rails the leaves piled high,
   Sometimes soggy or crumble dry –
      A confectioner’s array,
      Meringue-like in their tray:

For rich red-brown they aped a soufflé’s peaks,
Or the burnt almonds on a croissant’s cheeks,
   Or dark crushed biscuits for a flan,
   Or toast crumbs in the toaster’s pan:
      But when the car drove off
      It spilled my fancies with a cough!

====================
© December 2014

Thursday, 17 January 2019

On Having an Evelyn Waugh Moment

The world does what the world does. Thirty-eight years ago I was already thinking that the world was not moving as I would have liked! Here's a link to 'February 1981', written in that month and year, which I posted here on 16 February 2012.

--------------

What’s happened to the British who won two world wars
   But parlayed away the peace?
Who trekked two continents to bust German jaws
   And chuck grit in Nippon’s grease;
Now our forces are shrunk with no ships, planes or tanks
   Though inclusive of squaddies in pink;
May we launch our deterrent? Let’s ask the Yanks!
   Time for a coronary I think.

Our statesmen are coddled to lack all belief
   Though “values” foam out of their ears,
Less sushi and rice juice and much more roast beef
   Might soon put some spine in these peers;
Language and spelling have been all but interred,
   No one cons or composes in ink,
Grammar’s embalmed and slang’s now the word:
   Time for a coronary I think.

Respect and self-rule are torched like a guy
   And everyone’s tupping at will,
Marriage dissolves like a short-lived sigh
   And children are balked by the pill.
Flat-chested cropheads clutch clipboards like babes,
   Disapproving of trans-fats and drink,
Cigars are as outré as astrolabes:
   Time for a coronary I think.

Our thousand year borders – beach, cliff or ports –
   Are breached despite Channel fogs!
There’s Jorgés, Wang Weis, Pawels, all sorts,
   Bayos, Mohammeds – and sprogs.
Cowed and outnumbered, we rip up our fields,
   New towns are built on the wink;
Strange faces and lingos wash round the wealds:
   Time for a coronary I think.

The Household of Faith which moulded these isles,
   Hoisting the Decalogue as shield,
Has collapsed in a simper of toothy smiles
   Whilst Islam has grown and congealed.
Now sharia and mullah will curdle men’s brains,
   Compassion forget how to blink,
An age of unreason will fall with the rains:
   High time for a coronary I think.

====================
© December 2014