Friday 15 March 2024

ENERGY TRANSFORMS

This is a revised poem and it owes much to the input of the Secret Poets. Once again thank you chaps. You can read the last version here.

FINALS


with mirrored steps

we walk side by side

turn   in slow motion


this dialogue of movement offers

a split second vision

of all the rehearsals to come


the walls will hold our sound

the floor our footfalls

the air our breath


we will never fade

though all come to stillness

energy transforms


how fragile is the house of now

a time of endings

our finals     farewell

I was not happy with the poem and discussing with the Secrets clarified the structure of the poem and exactly what I wanted to say. Thank you once more. The looking glass steps had to go for clarity, you cannot hold on to those words which obscure.

This second poem has had the lines tightened up and I think works the better for it. You can read the earlier version here.

TAUNTON STATION ONE MIDNIGHT


we three strangers could be the last people on this earth

cold to the bone in the post midnight chill

the silence of the station is as deep as sleep we miss

individual in our anticipation we wait for the last train anticipating the last trainas we wait


then the light

rounds the bend

yawns to a stop


is this the carriage door

the one you will explode out of

telling tales of jostling platform changes

that lead to cheek by jowl overcrowding

no seat until well after Bristol


of course it isn’t

you walk up to me

we hug and walk home

I've been playing the American Dreamer box set a lot. Laura Nyro has been someone who I have listened to since I was a child. Here's some footage of Laura at Monetary I've just come across.

Until next time. 

Friday 8 March 2024

JUST TO BE ON THE SAFE SIDE

I was looking at an old poem the other day and thinking I could do better. I'll let you decide. You can read the earlier version here

LET THE TRAIN TAKE THE STRAIN


it is clear the train company worries about me

this is why they advised [twice] me to hold the handrail

at all times when I climb the station stairs 

counselled that I must carry water on my journey

as this weekend’s weather will be unseasonably hot

and suggest should I feel unwell

then I must disembark at the next station

as this will make it easier for them to aid me


obviously they have heard that I forget things these days

and so repeatedly remind me

in these times of heightened tension

not to leave my luggage unattended

because if I do the security service may damage

or blow my case to smithereens just to be on the safe side

it is also pointed out that I should stand behind the yellow line

and let people exit the train before attempting to enter

and to mind the gap at all times


as I am now in the quiet carriage I must not play my music

talk on my phone or annoy the other passengers

it is a shame the railway company

does not practice what it preaches

I remember the circumstances in which I wrote it clearly. I was travelling to Swanage in Dorset one summer's day on the train and was struck by just how many announcements were made. I hope the poem is rather tongue in cheek. What have I done? Well, I think I've clarified the ideas more fully than in the last version. 

I've been listening to Breathe Owl Breathe recently. They've always been a band I've enjoyed and I've found this video you may like.

Until next time.



Friday 1 March 2024

YAWNS TO A STOP

Here's a poem about meeting someone off the train late at night. I attended a workshop about trains last week ran by The Write Box poetry group. Thank you Bob and Sue.

we could be the three last people on this earth

cold as the bone in this post midnight chill

the station is as silent as sleep


then the light

rounds the bend

yawns to a stop


is this the carriage door

the one you will explode out of

telling tales of cheek by jowl overcrowding

no seat until well after Bristol


of course it isn’t


we hug and walk home

The poem is pretty straight forward [aren't they all]. It is based on a real incident of collecting my eldest daughter from the station. She arrived on the last train and the place was deserted. It's not complete yet, needs a rewrite or two. 

Here's Hurray For The Riff Raff. The new album is excellent.

Until next time.  

Friday 23 February 2024

WITH LOOKING GLASS STEPS

A poem about partings. The air feels filled with farewells at the moment. It's dissertation time and final exams loom.  

THE SECOND REHEARSAL OF THE LAST PRODUCTION


we walk side by side

with looking glass steps

turn    in slow motion


this moving dialogue offers

a split second view

of all the rehearsal halls to come


how fragile is the house of now

a time of endings

our finals    farewell


the walls will hold our sound

the floor our footfalls

the air our breath


we will never end

though all come to stillness

energy translates

I was attempting to capture endings and beginnings, that point when something is stopping but other things wait in the wings. This is definitely a work in progress. 

Here's a lovely video of Paul Simon with a beautiful arrangement of one of my favourite songs.

Until next time.

Friday 16 February 2024

SILK FLOWERS IN THE RAIN

This first poem would benefit from a photograph of the scene it describes but I didn't think to take one at the time. So you will have to make do with this word picture.

rows of silk flowers in the rain

outside the bargain centre


they gift larger than life colours to the day

multiplied reflections in the pavement pools


and we who hurry by with heads bowed

break into a smile to see such brightness

It was not until after I had passed the shop that the line silk flowers in the rain do not need water popped into my head. It was such a dismal afternoon I did not think to go back and take a  photograph. This next poem is self explanatory.

faced with writing a eulogy

I paragraph their experience

make sense of their happen chance

chart the voyage of their life

that I watched from the sidelines

a bit player in their grand narrative

my pen describes the new made void in all our lives

It is a work in progress. It isn't complete. Watch this space. It's strange how some poems you want to make work never quite do. Let's hope this one will land safely.

I've been listening to Naissan Jalal's latest cd Rituals and it is quietly beautiful. Well worth looking out.

Until next time. 

Friday 9 February 2024

A FISH YOU COULD NEVER MAKE SWIM

 I watched a French film recently The Green Perfume. It was fun in a Hitchcock-like way. But from the start I had a feeling of Deja Vu, that I had seen the film before, I realised that I had not because it was only released in 2022. Yet each new scene seemed familiar. In the end I gave up worrying and just watched the film. It led to this poem.

just as the lights dimmed

deja vu wandered in

occupied the seat next to his

and from the opening credits

provoked split second echoes from the future

playing his emotional responses like a kipper

[a fish you could never make swim]


how he worried about these instant memories

that he could not place in the fabric of his life

eventually he gave up trying to

and just let the film roll over him

This is one of the poems I've been working on lately and I am not sure it's the definitive version. I'm attempting to get that feeling of rolling with the flow in response to events beyond control. Watch this space.

Just before Christmas I got a couple of cds by Sachal Vasandani and Romain Collin and I can't stop playing them. The interplay between the voice and the piano is exquisite. 

Until next time.

Friday 2 February 2024

THE BUBBLES FLED

Here's a couple of revised poems. You can read the previous version of this first one here. I've changed the ending as I was not happy with the poem, to be honest after the first line I didn't think it flowed. Hopefully this is smoother.

just like that the champagne went flat

we were in the presence of a bigger mystery

one that would carry us to a place of metaphor

and consume a whole twelve hours


we had been there before and would visit again

so I watched as the bubbles fled from the pale liquid

sometimes all you can do is trust

and watch the seconds as they uniquely unravel

I wanted to project tranquillity, that a loss of ego can lead us to something wonderful. That there is no need for fear. This second poem is hopefully more show than tell. 

the anchoress dreams

sap green spring leaf

her time again would be

to sail as a dandelion seed

over all man made enclosures


but the bell’s toll wakes her

in the half light same four walls

as it has been these past ten years

the sun takes its time

to rise above the barred window


and where she wonders

is God in all of this?

I think the last version was an information dump. What I have tried to do is lead the reader to the same conclusion, but I am not sure that the final two lines are needed? At the moment I am working on a number of poems that are slowly coming together, they will appear in due time.

Hurray For The Riff Raff has a new album out, you can order it here. I leave you with a track.

Until next time.