Dead Pier →
Beautiful poem by MJ Duggan
Red String of Fate
This scarlett twine
what binds us.
Invisible line
can hang us
We trip on others
tangled cat’s cradled fingers
we’re tied up on insignificant lovers,
as undone patient knots.
Leads us on
to your heart.
This scarlett twine
what binds us.
Invisible line
can hang us.
Teeth broken
as we try to chew free
to cheat ourselves,
of our destiny.
I feel you stumble
vibrations ring urgently
like a wild oscillating cymbal,
twine tightens bow string.
Let go, hits
to my heart.
This scarlett twine
what binds us.
Invisible line
can hang us.
Hearts broken
we reel it in or flee
we cannot escape,
our destiny,
We reach closer
you step out
from the shadows,
I always knew
it would be you.
(Source: http)
.Tea Drinker.
Drizzle licks window
sudden gust captures coat hood.
Warm toes relax inside.
by TheBoyWyatt 2011
‘I FEEL THE RUSH OF GABRIEL’S WINGS’
I feel the rush of Gabriel’s
wings, the shock that he should kneel,
the whispered question. I sing prayers
into myself, share my days, my fears
with him, helpless master, unmade maker,
God and man, my son and father,
Carried in me, weightless, faceless, Lord of life, of seas, skies, stars.
MICHAEL SYMMONS ROBERTS
Winters Bell
It rang,
unclear against the sound of traffic and dripping rooves
It rang out against the frost and frozen village lanes
Its repeating, skittering along the surface of the dulled stream
and continued to ring.
Winter’s bell
Not a peal but a call to listen, attend
And then it came
Gently blowing across the roads and paths
Snow, winter had arrived.
© JBrain, 2010
Magpie
It’s only now,
as I dissassemble your magpie nest
Of all things old, shiny and unusual;
Your semi complete collections:
Glasses, fans, gloves, collar studs
stoneware, glassware
an aladdins cave of discarded objects
Found by you and kept safe
That I start to know you.
You were distant for a long time
too much tragedy, too many battles too young,
Too late you demanded my friendship,
Wheedled and sulked like a child,
Your nest was too prickly for me to sit comfortably in.
And now I sense you as a young girl
Bossy, driven, organising
Full of idea and excitement, adventure
Ronnie Scotts, Pantomimes, Rome
Days on the beach, dancing…
And the letters pour in,
memories, stories, little glimpses of you
happier days, than these later years.
My father said, when I was a teenager
That I had all the worst bits of the two of you,
He said it with a smile but it troubled me.
It is still in my head as I bag and box.
Your sister is keen to de-clutter
But talks as if you were some kind of saint, a martyr
She rifles through your bits and pieces with purpose,
Egging my father on to clear the decks.
Cautiously I remove things from the dustbin
thinking that after all the effort of keeping them so long,
I should at least find these treasures new homes to go to.
A friend suggested a summer season of car boots,
I tried one but lay awake all night
Agonising over whether you would have approved
Of my wholesale disposal of your hoard.
We are all of us, exhausted from our careful
De-construction of your kingdom,
Such passion and time poured into the creation of it.
You did good things, you were loved and you are missed
But I am relieved, to rediscover the space and the light,
To banish the pungent odour of mothballs and dust.
I am relieved.
J. Brain June 2010
The Christening Party pt II
250 miles we went,
to see them wet the babys forehead.
A small and precious thing
Unknowing of the road ahead
Unfearing, unaware.
In the church we sang and prayed
And our echoes never dinted the hills around
Or raised the head of sheep and lambs
Til the stamping of our feet on stone and rock
For the after service coffee and the buffet queue
Rang out, sang out with relief.
250 miles we went to hold the baby
let the tiny fingers grip us, asking
Keep me, hold me, guide me
And when the music started
We talked more softly, knowing
Of the duty before us all.
And as the steam from paper mill churned out beside our gathering
And the river water tipped and churned past our feet
We strived to recapture noble thoughts within us and be good.
In the grassy verge, a rabbit shivered, half blinded and dying
Someone for the sake of mercy held it by its legs and
Dashed it against a low stone wall,
Spattering blood on his Sunday shirt
A wetting and a blooding seems fitting
for such a party.
The Christening Party
I realise there has been no laughter
For a long while.
Standing at the back of the room
Moving to the music
I look around and notice the man in the fleece
Has swapped places
And that there aren’t enough chairs.
A woman is dancing with a baby in her arms,
Another flailing out of time and intent
On the floor.
New life, old life and somewhere in between
Swaying, standing, lost in memory
Engrossed in continuing the history
The pattern.
Outside a dog barks, and someone laughs
as the singer and the guitarist finish and look up
Expecting, or perhaps fearing the applause,
The backing track clicks on.
are
These feet are tired
These eyes are tired
You are tired
I am tired
That we are strangers in this world
Is more clear now than all the stars in the
Dark open sky
Are.
Something missed
Everyone is asking,
Shouting and whining,
Knocking on the door, Inside the head.
Feeding guilty-minded souls with small request slips.
You have what others want. Stuff.
Stuff; a pen, small change, an opinion, a vote, time.
Spend, sit, watch, listen, click, tick, be
Here.
Amidst all this cloying demand
The want it, take it wave of need
The give me, give me wheedle
The nicely, nicely begging
of “we’re only asking”
I am suspended.
Casting about this
Silence for a piece of me.
I gave away a piece of me, I gave it willingly but even in default mode,
There is a jumping, hiccuping, skipping over, a blip of incompleteness.
I give. I take. I’m not afraid to ask,
Just don’t know where to start looking
For this little piece of me that’s missing.
Everyone is asking, pleading, lying, jabbing fingers, banging with fists.
Why does it seem like it’s only me, Only me that’s
Looking for that little piece, the something, that’s missed.
© J. Brain 2010
