Archives for the month of: May, 2013

New paths will take you

through the wood: A diff’rent

route you’d not expect.

 

From there you’ll see things

– like the lake – from points

of view you’ll not forget.

 

A green bench here. Let’s

sit a while. The blind,

we benefit from this.

 

Dec. 2012

Another poem triggered by amblings in Waterlow Park, a green-space in the London borough of Camden. In the park are a number of benches, many of which have been sponsored in memoriam of loved ones. One such dedication described the deceased as a “benefactor of the blind.” Since many of these benches are strategically positioned at resting points and viewing spots in the park, I worked the strands of literal views and sights and internal, psycho-emotional vision into the poem.

If you enjoyed this poem, have a look at other work in my first volume: SHINING IN BRIGHTNESS.

I tweet regularly about my London ambles as @BeadedQuill

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Warning!

Deep Water

Green weed coats the pond.

Catkins tiptoe past the curtain leaves

here in the conservation area near the tennis courts.

“Should you see

anything particularly exciting

please tell us about it.,“

requests the London Borough of Camden, Nature Conservation Section.

“Well, I didn’t notice much

except,”

he turns,

“You,

delightful  thing.”

(he bent down to kiss her)

Ah! Water deep

(she kissed him back)

2011

Many readers really enjoy this poem, primarily because they believe it provides some insight about the poet (i.e. me). I suppose they make this leap because – at 1,47m  – I am quite small, like a little human huckleberry. As readers, we also like to overlay the narrator’s voice with that of the creator. I shall leave the fact to fiction ratio up to your imagination. At the end of the day, it is my hope that the poem works in capturing a moment in poetic form.

You can own this poem – and 19 others – when you purchase a copy of my first volume of selected work: SHINING IN BRIGHTNESS. Two explanatory essays accompany the poems. The beautifully formatted book is available through blurb.co.uk.

I am on Twitter as @BeadedQuill. I tweet about poetry, my ambles in London’s green spaces and at the moment, my online dating experiences. (I also tweet quite a bit about martial arts.)

Over here on the hill

I try to drop the pail.

In the valley

you scythe the bending wheat.
 

When the grain is ground to flour,

you will carry it in a sack to my kitchen.

There on the table

kneaded under the heel of my hand

 

I’ll remember the autumn, Jack

when you brought in the hay.

Now, come and eat of the loaf while it’s warm.

In December last year I posted a longer version of this poem. I returned to the material and experimented with distillation. Which version do you prefer? Why?

And what do you think of the nursery rhyme reference?

“Tumbling After” is another poem earmarked for my forthcoming set, Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys. If you enjoyed this piece, you may enjoy my first volume of poetry: SHINING IN BRIGHTNESS.

Follow me on Twitter. I’m @Beaded Quill. I tweet regularly about writing and working with words. Occasionally, I mention a good loaf of bread.

There are all these Tonys of the world:

Italian, Greek, Portuguese, Lebanese, Eastern European,

who own sewing-machine shops, grocery stores,

corner cafés and sometimes sell insurance.

Anthony, Antonin, Antonio and the more Teutonic, Anton.

But Anton was the opera singer

after he’d worked for a while

on the railway.

Another poem for possible inclusion in “Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys.”

If you enjoyed the above, have a look at my first published volume of work, SHINING IN BRIGHTNESS.

Follow me on Twitter. I’m @BeadedQuill

I told her

      Because modern boys ought to know the advice given

 

Hold out until Tuesday.

You know you can. No public

communication whatsoever.

If necessary write it out.

But do not send.

(Especially, do not press send.)

Sit on your hands, girl

because you are waiting for move 5

in love chess.

Another poem earmarked for my forthcoming mini-collection, Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys.

If you enjoyed my poem, I invite you to preview my first volume SHINING IN BRIGHTNESS.

Follow my observations of modern boys, love chess and modern communication on Twitter. I am @BeadedQuill

Roverhampton
Bodensee
plimsoles
mixologist
category
salient
stubble
snub
rubble
rabble and ruin

I love lists and every now and then I wander around with a list either in my head or on scraps of paper of “current nice words.” At the moment this list includes torsion and fealty. The above list dates from mid-December last year.

My first volume of poetry, Shining in Brightness, was released earlier this year. You can preview it here at blurb.co.uk

Follow my regular tweets about my weaknesses for words, muesli and things cultural. I’m @BeadedQuill

 

We ate at Träumerei.

Maybe I ordered a quiche

And he had melted cheese.

Forget this not, my heart:

We lunched at Träumerei.

There shining in brightness

on the table –  a glass

of water,

four peppermints and the bill.

2012

It is from this poem that my first volume derives its title. In this prosaic moment, in which two people finish a meal at a restaurant, there is also a numinous communion. The objects and the moment between the diners are frozen in time like a still life, or a memento mori. I find it most intriguing that at least eight years passed from the moment of the meal to the poem’s creation. Because I know you’re wondering, the other diner is my Dad. When I was in my late teens and early twenties he would treat me once a month, near his payday, for lunch in Cape Town’s city centre. In the weeks leading up to meal, he would bring home menus from prospective cafés. Pouring over the meal options and discussing the ambience was almost as important as the day itself.

The moment in this poem is based on a vague memory of a meal we had at an Austrian restaurant, Träumerei, which used to operate on St George’s Mall. (At one time it had a sibling restaurant in Franschhoek, a wine route town renowned for its cuisine.) In my memory it is a bright, sunny Cape Town day and we are sitting on the white painted balcony overlooking the mall, a bustling pedestrian thoroughfare. It’s that moment of repose between the end of the meal, the paying of the bill and continuing with the hustle of the afternoon.

My Dad worked as a humble council clerk for the city council. Seldom did he seem to have money for practicalities like shoe repairs, a new suit or the ‘phone bill. In fact, once he spent the household bill money on tickets for all five of us to see a visiting Russian Cossack dance troupe. My mother was not pleased when they cut off the water. But my Dad had a rich poetic spirit, and he found the pennies for lunchtime dates, Saturday coffees and the regular offerings of a single rose or carnation for my mother.

My Dad passed away on the 5th May 2009 after a battle with colon cancer and it is to his memory I dedicate “Shining in Brightness.”

Shining in Brightness my first volume of poetry presents 20 poems selected from twelve years’ worth of writing and two accompanying, explanatory essays. You can preview and purchase it here (via blurb.co.uk)

I tweet regularly about my current food yens – muesli, coffee and London dining – and occasional attempts at improving my German. I’m on Twitter as @BeadedQuill

Betty's Bay

A Thousand Scientific Facts

about the sea

Watch the mist-spray drift

towards the dunes:

A mother is out with

her children.

The daughter plays with

the dog breaking foam

And the little boy sits beside on a rock.

There are bluebottles along the shore today;

many cuttlefish shells;

a dead penguin, his flippers

laid out on the sand.

A few thoughts which originated during time at Silver Sands, Betty’s Bay circa April 2012.

For more of my poetry, see my first volume of published work: SHINING IN BRIGHTNESS, SELECTED POEMS, 1999 – 2012.

Follow me on Twitter. I’m @BeadedQuill.