New Poems

Westernays   (for Bernard)

is when you car ends facing backwards
.... on the wrong side of the road

when the wind beats yourumbrella
.... till its insides all hang out

when the water takes your little boatm m m
.... and spins it like a plate.

It's like a song reversed, a church
.... constructed widershins

to face the falling sun, the day
.... next week or sometime soon

you'll take a truth and twist it,
.... turn a child to face the wall

or force a man stark naked
.... to get down and lick the floor.

It's the dream whch has you driving
.... down exactly the wrong street

as you race to catch your boatm m m
....before it sails.

It's the wind along the western quay,
.... the voices in its throat

the seaman on the closing doors,
.... the words you hear him shout

I'll wait. I'll wait all night
.... if need be. I can wait .

(first published in Poetry London)

 
 

 

 

from Pearl


Then fiercer than longing came the fear.

I didn't stir or dare to call

to her: wide-eyed and silent as a hawk

in a great hall I waited there.

I knew that what I saw was spirit

and I feared for what might follow –

that within my sight she'd disappear

before I could come close to her.

So smooth, so small, so delicate,

this graceful, innocent girl now rose

before me in her royal robes,

a precious creature set with pearls.


Now, like a vision granted, showered

in a setting of jewels fit for a queen

this child as fresh as a lily-flower

stepped downward towards the stream.

The fine white linen she wore seemed woven

with light and where its sides hung open

was laced with borders of pearls far paler

and prettier than any I'd seen before.

The sleeves of her robe fell long and low,

stitched in with double rows of pearls;

her skirts of the same fine linen were trimmed

and seeded all over with precious gems.