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Contagion! Is it coronavirus? Contact-tracing in place?
So stay indoors, self-isolate, staycation.
Couvre-feu, “cover the fire”. Curfew.
Coronaverse: an alphabet of terms related to Covid-19. Tomorrow brings us the letter D.
It creeps round my collar,
it slinks up my sleeves,
steals through the soles
of my shoes with such ease,
spies on the small of my back
and nips at the nape of my neck;
my fingers, my toes,
my ear lobes, my nose,
all start at the sharp touch,
the cold steel,
the grip
of winter
Dungeness shingle beach, Kent
When the noise of inner city
— siren, shouts, traffic, trains,
door slams, blues parties —
gets too much,
when sleep is shut out
then seashore susurration
of surf sucking shingle
— irregular yet interminable —
shushes out of speakers
from blessedly ambient CD,
soothing the stresses and strains
of a jangled day
Exercise written for a creative writing class on attentiveness and feeling
Pledge us your votes, plead
populist politicians
purely on the make
The audience is audibly awaiting:
chattering, anticipating, alert.
Now obbligato applause, a white noise,
greets our soloist, striding then still,
biding by keyboard, lid glinting, spotlit.
A waltz by Chopin, a mazurka or two,
insinuate themselves into the silence.
Tinkles and ripples and staccato notes
stipple the auditorium airwaves.
Seconds pass, minutes; a barcarolle beckons us
for an aural tour right round Europe,
through France and Poland and then into Italy.
But now a crescendo glissando, fortissimo:
an impromptu motorbike adding its basso
to the soundscape again and again.
And again. Then diminuendo.
Now, as Greig’s trolls begin their march
a monotone idée fixe intrudes
its extruded ostinato from the street:
the persistent trill of burglar alarm riffing its repetitive roundelay.
Through the Norwegian notturno it rings
and on into rippling brooklet arpeggios
till suddenly conspicuous by absence.
Interval over, Fauré leads us back
to La Serenissima with a barcarolle.
His nocturne’s punctuated by a percussive bark,
subsiding, stifled, as cough-calming,
transcendental Liszt breathes un sospiro,
his sighs and harmonies du soir checking chair creak
and soft yet sonorous snores.
Tumultuous hail-like clatter greets our virtuoso.
He smiles, he acknowledges, he returns
and settles to our final reward:
Schubert’s G flat Impromptu.
You can hear a piano drop to pianissimo;
a few tear drops are shed, and shared.
Inspired by a recent recital given by Llyr Williams
sibillant squeals,
insistent, persistent:
parent-pestering young gull,
close-following, food-demanding,
noisome, brain-numbing:
nature’s survival ploy
seconds tick, cries continue,
minutes pass with constant mews;
unsated hunger; wanders wide;
wonder of wonders! parent flies,
youngster follows, peace returns:
save for surf’s hiss, bliss now reigns
but I still hear it
He lay there, there in the room
where he’d had his office,
where his papers, neatly filed,
filled the folders boxed up on his shelves
He lay there, there on his back
as though snoozing, skin so sallow
for all the embalmer’s art,
silent, chinless, still judgemental.
Did I feel bereft? Or merely empty?
Would I no longer suffer an appraising glance,
a carping comment or a critical silence?
Would I still be found wanting, a vaporous wastrel,
failing any potential I ever possessed?
He lay there, there in the room
where he’d had his office,
where his still body, sweetly smelling,
filled the coffin, a box to himself
Piece written for creative writing course on poetry, the brief being to compose a poem based on a personal experience
foxy Guido Fawkes
fall guy for government fail
in gunpowder plot
Guy Fawkes was caught with barrels of gunpowder in the cellars under the Houses of Parliament the day before King James I was due to formally open the new session on November 5th, 1605. Since then autumn bonfires have been enthusiastically lit, ‘guys’ burnt and fireworks exploded to remind us that “gunpowder, treason and plot” should “ne’er be forgot.”
Newgale beach
Working as a contract paralegal
has components in its favour,
and factors that are
unfavourable to some people.
If a way-off journey
and pleasure in your work life
is what would swimsuit you the very best,
freelancing may very well be
an awesome option for you!
I don’t want to bemoan the quality of spam these days but I find that very few live up to the standards I look for in found poetry. This is a tolerable exception
garden gate guarding
green glade, growth glad-garlanding
glare-giving grating
metal muscles tensed
machine hums, breathes, waits alert
hear the whistle blow
silent wethers graze
sullen stillness swathes waters
westering sun sinks
Zenrinji 