MOSES DOWNED TOOLS

 

Earlier this week I caught on camera a reflection I had seen last year at this time. I cannot work out just what the sunlight is shining off in the sitting room but I like the result. Strangely it was not there the next day, so perhaps I was very lucky.

A brief poem that wrote itself from the first line. In the poem the Egyptian parents were not as lucky.

Industrial Action

Moses downed tools

and before the management capitulated

things turned very nasty

frogs fell from the sky alive

and children died.

Imagine that

children died.

Could you pray to a deity

that valued one child’s life over another?

When I was a child and I first heard the story of the Exodus I did not consider the pain and distress of the Egyptian parents, to lose so many children like that must have been horrific. I can only compare it to Aberfan disaster in 1966, when 116 children and 28 adults died following the collapse of a colliery spoil tip. I was 10 at the time and the photographs shocked me.

Even if, as I suspect, the story of the Exodus is untrue, I would still have doubts about praising such a deity. 

I had a zoom meeting with the Secrets the other day. This is a revision, you can read the original here. 

it was the size of the day and

it slipped in while he slept on

so that when he awoke

it was its sun he saw

its trees and grass he glimpsed

through its windows

his body slumbered

machines worked to keep him stable

it was large

yet it was not infinite

he knew on his solo walks

in the empty park just where to stop

for one step more and he would have been

enmeshed in its membrane

the ceaseless machines watched over

his silent hospital room

What's changed is the layout, it is now in couplets. I think this one is slowly evolving, watch this space.

The talented Annabelle Chvostek is celebrating 25 years as a professional music ian this week. Congratulations Annabelle! Here is the title track from her latest album.

Until next time.

FRICTION LINES CUT THE SKY

 

I woke in the night and wrote the first draft of this post's poem. This is not something I do often.

It concerns the Lyrid meteor shower which was visible this week in Devon. It all happened pretty much like the poem says.

Night Meteorites

he happened to wake

at the optimum hour

the bathroom window

was a dark blue square

stained by the street light

he chanced to see

friction lines cut the sky

on waking he will question the memory

I appear to be in a very prolific phase at the moment. 

This poem too is a little observation.

one hour in

we were at the stage

when everything takes on

an infinite aspect

and so were running around the house

taken with the newly revealed size of it all

and the distance between the rooms

a picture caught me

an etching of a dress

I stood and watched all the straight line dance

it does not last long

you are soon carried on

smiling into the next phase

Here is Laura Gibson, I Carry Water.

Until next time.

MY FEET TOOK MY HEAD TO THE BEACH

 

I have been fortunate enough to be able to spend time at the beach recently. In Torquay you are spoilt for choice when it comes to beaches.

This is poem was written while I watched the world go by on Meadfoot beach.

gulls ride the thermals over the bay

spiralling dots in a blue and white sky

ever higher lost to my eye

It doesn't quite work, the metre is uneven but it captures the moment. I have often said that writing what you see is a good exercise for the poetic chops.

my feet took my head to the beach

when I saw

from the top of the hill

the low tide laid out before me

I could have cried

for the beauty of the moment

and walked that much faster

to stand on the tide line

be amazed by each successive wave

savoured each stolen second

gave thanks, gave thanks, gave thanks

The beach in this case was Goodrington. I think it captures the right mood, one of thankfulness. I believe that we are here to give thanks for the beauty of existence.

Here's a dream-like song about the sea side, Anne Briggs, off her second album The Time Has Come. 

Until next time.

IT WAS THE SIZE OF A DAY

 

I was leafing through an old notebook and I came across the phrase: it was the size of a dog, which I misread as it was the size of a day, the poem wrote itself after that. I have no idea where it came from but my misreading certainly gave life to something very different.

it was the size of the day and

it slipped in while he slept on

so that when he awoke

it was its sun he saw

its trees and grass he glimpsed

through its windows

his body slumbered on

machines worked to keep him stable

it was large yet it was not infinite

rather he just knew

on his solo walks in the empty park

where to stop

for one step more

and he would have been

enmeshed in its membrane

and forced to decide

the ceaseless machines watched over

his silent hospital room

I do not think it is a complete poem yet, it needs a redraft or two I think, but for now it is as complete as I can make it. Time for it to go away for a couple of months.

Annabelle Chvostek has just released another live video - enjoy.

Until next time.

MILK TOKEN

 

I feel I must explain what a milk token is to begin with.

In the past [up to the 1970s] diaries would issue milk tokens, special coins that were the equivalent of a pint of milk. As a child, as I remember, we would leave milk tokens out for the milk man and he would leave the requisite number of bottles. 

Milk tokens are a spin off the token economy that was in operation from the 1700's onwards.

it seemed natural enough

to pop a milk token

into the gas meter and

turn the dial to get the gas

round and green

concentric circles on one side

the size of a shilling

and I suppose the same weight

as it made the gas flow

that’s it 

no more

just a stray

Saturday morning memory

floating to the surface

fifty plus years later

The poem is what it says, a memory.

Perhaps it is the fact we have been locked down for so long that I am trawling my memories for subject matter? It's a modest little poem. But it works.

I leave you with live music from Annabelle Chvostek recorded just as Montevideo was about to go into lockdown last year. Her new album is out, it is superb, and you can buy it here. 

Until next time.