Friday, 2 May 2014

RED WINE FLOWS OVER PLATES

A poem that arrived quickly but took time to shape.
Though I feel that I should set the scene. A Murder Mystery is a game that is played over the course of an evening, in which the guests act the parts they have been given. The aim is to unmask the murderer. You can buy ready made kits for the different number of guests.


Murder Mystery

So, I have arranged this,
found the only game for twelve people,
sent invites, cobbled a costume together
for the stereotype I am to play.

Here we are at table,
all nervous laughter,
looks across the food,
red wine spills over plates.

You were the upright married woman,
life imitating art.
Your husband, now a clergyman,
denoted by a thin card collar, 
a terribly modern cleric 
who pours more Rioja.
Events play out, follow the script,
he is shown to be a drunk.
You had the motive!
You could have done it!
You are having an affair!
There, now the vicar has said it, 
spoken those words aloud,
all read faced in the candlelight.
I study your eyes,
you carry off the charade well,
art imitates life.

Then the attention turns to me,
and I am revealed as the murderer.

I would be interested to know what you make of this poem.

we were separated by more than distance
the horizon has flipped one hundred and eighty degrees
our compass cannot respond this
how can you trust a landscape
where beached clouds weep?
I would like to speak out
tell you there is safety in staying together
but sense you take in my cubist form
as if this this the first time you have really seen me

I know I will change again

A little surreal poem to match the photographs.

I am reading Tracey Thorn's autobiography at the moment, Bedsit Disco Queen. It is well written and amusing, if like me you are a fan of books about music and musicians then it's worth reading. Here is a song from her A Distant Shore lp.


This is the only video I could find of her first band the wonderful Marine Girls.

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