Read - damowords

THE
SILVER
ROSE
ODES
from
2004
TO
a
POEM
that was
LOST
in the
CITY OF
STOCKHOLM
England
I wrote a poem once,
At Hatfield, not far from the scene of disaster
My friend was driving there one sunny day
Smoking reefers & talking about life's
changes
Well… We ended up in a funky metal
scrapyard
One of those places you never
thought existed
Like when you were
younger & joked
About where all the lost oddsocks went
But this place was the real deal,
Full of Volkswagon carcasses,
Camper vans & Beetle hulks
& a couple of greasy mechanics,
chilling
with the sun
While my friend looked at a ninety-nicker
bumper
I was suddenly inspired to write a few
desolate lines
About the decaying Earth & the dwindling fuel
reserves
& finished it off with an arty kind of twist
About discovering an old photograph of
myself
Clutching a pretty young lady,
she was
wearing beads
Sat upon the beach of,
perhaps, San Remo
We’d been up all night, the red wine &
the sunrise
Our friends skinnin’ up all splayed
out beside us
It never happened like that, but all poems
need an end
Sweden
So… I stashed it away,
A single sheet of paper folded several times
Constantly forgetting to type the fucker up
Until it turned up in a book I was reading
Livy's remarkable Smaller History of Rome
I'd packed it to study on my mission round
the Baltic
Where, trawling the soft streets of Stockholm
Wondering what the hell all the plastic cows
were for
Every time I picked it up the sheet fell out the
pages
Constantly reminding me to make the fucker
safe
It would only take a second, but I never took
the time...
I found myself having one of those moments
Sun setting sublimely as I made my evening
meal
On the forecastle of the hotel boat I was
staying on
The splish-splosh of the waves & a gust of sea
breeze
Blew out the sheet as I turned a page
To float on the air like a falling feather..
Time was standing still… & the paper started
F
A
To slip thro the narrowest of cracks tween the
L boards
To be found one day in the distant future
L
By somebody breaking up the hold for
scrap I
N
I was gutted at first,
G
Like the time my girlfriend ran off with a
German
But as I ponder’d home to my cabin empty
handed,
Past painted memorials of the age of sail
I had a remarkable epiphany
At last my poem had a proper end!
TO
an
ENGLISHMAN
With
LIBERTY
Composed upon the discovery of the
planetoid Sedna
Perhaps, long hence, when I have passed away,
Some other feature, accent, thought like mine,
Will carry you back to what I used to say
Thomas Hardy
One
Everything you can imagine is real…
Pablo Picasso
Sir, did you ever take these bright isles in a
tour,
The pride of Scotland slake on Hampden’s
awesome roar
& did you ever stun the herd of Wicklow
deer
Or strike a mountain run down Snowdon
sloping sheer?
Sir, have you spent a night with Haggis Burns &
song
Or watch’d a ravensflight from battle cairns at
Kong
& did you spy the sun oer Glencoe’s
savagery
Or seen Portmeirion in total privacy
Sir, did you break your fast upon old Boney’s
nose
Then gaze down on Belfast & all her terraced
rows
& have you ever stood atop the Isle of
Man
With weather fine & good, held Britain like
a fan
To an Englishman with liberty
D’ya love thy Celtic fringe?
‘I do so, & am proud!’
You are?
Then set breath free
& let your soul impinge
About thy native crowd
A-streaking silver tinge
Two
The country is looking much more beautiful than
when I came through it three weeks ago
Edith Holden
Sir, have you ever seen Cumbria clad in snow
Or Brighton’s beaches been in summer's easy
glow
& have you ever heard the Cambridge
matin bells
Or felt your senses stirr'd when England’s
anthem swells?
Sir, did you drink the ale brewed for the
northern mills
Or watch seafarers sail from Whitby’s salty
sills
& did you ever feed your thirst in Cornish
Springs
Or take the time to read thro histories of
kings?
Sir, have you ever pass’d an afternoon at Lords
Or watch’d a happy cast a-tread Adelphi’s
boards
& have you ever cheer’d the horses at
Aintree
Or as a bargeman steer’d the waters of the Lea
To an Englishman with liberty
What of these coy demands?
“These things, sir, I have known!”
You have?
Then let us fly
Beyond these fabled lands
The English call their own
Set sail for Calais sands
Three
The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; -on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Matthew Arnold
Sir, did you ever ride the high-speed Gallic
trains
Or climb a mountainside kept by Croatian
swains
& did you ever try the tramways of Zurich
Or skiing full hilt fly upon an Alpine peak?
Sir, did you ever tour the fields of Waterloo
Or urge Rooney to score amidst a foreign
crew
& did you lap the flow of Castalian Spring
Or seek a fireside glow from Finland’s wintry
sting?
Sir, did you take a dance with maidens of
Seville
Or breathe the elegance of the Avantine Hill
& walk the wylde contree barefoot upon the
Basque
Or taste the brevity of the Venetian masque?
To an Englishman with liberty
Italy has it all,
“It does, sir, & does well!”
Va bene!
No finer place to visit
& forge a poet’s soul!
Tis where the muses dwell
& welcome one & all
Four
Ricordatevi che L'Italia non deve rimarere
Nel servaggio e nella vergogna
Guiseppe Garibaldi
Sir, did your pallet taste sepia’s sable sheen
Or spread green pesto paste on bread like
margerine
& steep Collodi climb to read Pinnochio
Or see day set sublime oer Pontevecchio
Sir, did you Lord Byron raise through old
Venetian lanes
Or find yourself amazed by Pompeii’s strange
remains
& did you ever take the waters of Trieste
Or swim Averno’s lake without a moments
rest
Sir, did you cheer the riffs as Ligabue rocks
Walk Cinque Terran cliffs, or bought Le Scale
box
& did you deck the sails round Ponza’s pirate
isle
Or study Tuscan tayles in Dante’s sweet new
style
To an Englishman with liberty
Art thou adventurous?
“I am sir, life is good!”
It is?
Then reach this sea
The gods named glorious,
Let freedom clasp thy hood
& cross the Bosphorous
Five
In Hellespont, guilty of true love's blood,
In view and opposite two cities stood,
Sea-borderers, disjoin'd by Neptune's might;
The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight.
Christopher Marlowe
Sir, did you feel the heat of searing Rajhastan
Or clad Kimono greet fair geishas of Japan
& did you ever wear th’Atlantic’s mistral
miles
Or dreams of Zion share midst the Pacific
isles?
Sir, did you ever ride the Vladivostok rail
Or watch the proud ‘Roos hide from harsh Van
Diemen hail
& did you ever climb the Islandwhanan rock
Or hear the lilting chime of the diannual
clock?
Sir, did you note the chill of the Saharan night
Or felt your senses thrill with Rio neath your
flight
& did you ever smell the waifs of Singapore
Or share a living hell when nations go to war?
To an Englishman with Liberty
With spirit cavalier,
For you the world grows dull?
“It does!”
Then come with me
A fresher course to steer,
Launch from Canaveral
To chase the stratosphere
Six
Whenever mankind has sought to conquer new
frontiers, there have been those who have given
their lives for the cause. This Astronauts Memorial,
dedicated May 9, 1991, is a tribute to American men
and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice
believing the conquest of space is worth the risk of
life. Mission of the Astronauts Memorial
Sir, did you foot the floor of dusty lunar seas
Or spread your mind & soar upon the solar
breeze
& did you ever sail betwixt the Saturn rings
Or catch a comets tail & tie it to your wings?
Sir, did you abseil down craters of Mercury
Or wander rusting towns of Martian history
& did you pierce the clouds twixt Ceres &
Trojan
Or hide beneath the clouds of rain
Venusian?
Sir, did you feel winds form on Neptune’s azure
reed
Or watch the great red storm from twinkling
Ganymede
& did you once observe the green Urasian
glow
& with Colombus verve pass fringes of Pluto?
To an Englishman with liberty
Have you these pleasures sought?
“I have sir, & have felt!”
God bless astronomy!
Relax, come let us float
Beyond the Kuiper belt
Unto our final port…
Seven
Everywhere I go I find a poet has been there before
me.
Sigmund Freud
Sir, have you ever gone beyond the icy Quaoar
Or paused at Ixion, core of an ancyent star,
& did you scan the skies from lovely
Varuna
Or set your naked eyes on sanguinous
Sedna?
Sir, come with us & spin upon this scarlet
sphere,
Through head of tiny pin watch our vast sun
appear,
Here ye shall find no guide, nor shall ye
hear a sound,
From Sedna’s swirling side a rocky moon slips
round…
Sir, watch the goddess sit, voluptuous & fair,
Beloved Enuit, with starfish dappled hair,
Whom by her husband cruel purged of her
vanities,
Now sits she as the jewel of the infinities…
To an Englishman with liberty
What brings ye to this place?
“She called me from her stone!”
She did, then cross this sea
She calls the stretch of space,
Continue, sir, alone
& vanish without trace
TO
the
250,000
VICTIMS
of the
furious
TSU-NA-MI
of
BOXING DAY
2004
Remember the host of the ghostly battalion
Imagine them drown’d in a growling sea
Beach-huts for driftwood, corpses for carrion
O sing a sad song for the TSU-NA-MI
Sing to the outlying islands of Andaman
As waves strip the tribesmen’s neolithic dress
Ripping them out to the mad, frothing ocean
Leaves nothing behind but a waste wilderness
Far worse than the monster that shock’d mighty Lisb
From the Guadalquivir to the Antibes
Struck by the scope, the proportion of Ocean
Forever witnessing these biblical seas
Remember the mood in the days after Christmas
When so many strangers shall shun the new year
A new, doleful sound when the river grows restless
As so many tears crystallize a new fear
Remember the grief in the streets of Sumatra
Second Krakatoa rolls in as a gale
The wave left a swathe for the here & hereafter
Of death & destruction on Golgothan scale
Remember them fleeing those huge walls of water
That snapped them & tossed them & made bloody p
The aftermath pale, they search'd for her daughter
A sad scene repeated some three thousand miles
These scenes a portent of deadly Katrina
Soon Louisiana would suffer the same
When lives devastated by merciless water
Become bloated bodies of barbaric shame
Remember them flock from the lush Phuket beaches
As in rush’d a storm to destroy the fair bays
Lost in wreck'd Kamala street urchin beseeches
The first waves survivors the Oceans still raise
Remember the sounds on the shores of Sri Lanka
The crunching & breaking & snapping & screams
As ships of pig-iron are ripped from the anchor
& pack’d teeming trains flung from bent, steely beam
Remember the shock when the seas were retreating
What nuclear winter on all sides was seen
Upon the horizon the dark sky now meeting
A vast wall of water of Aegean green
When in the black minute that Heaven was swelling
Nature's awesome horror in raw, rampant state
For two-hundred-thousand the death bell is knelling
What Sayer or Vates could foresee their fate
Remember the trail of those waves of destruction
From Asia to Africa surged the wild sea
Remember, remember the Lord of the Ocean
O sing a sad song for the TSU-NA-MI
SONNETS
from
THE
SILVER
ROSE
It takes time for people to get, y’know,
acquainted,
It takes time for people to fall in love with you,
But it’s inevitable cos there’s nothing else
about
Ian Brown
SILVERN LEAVES
This is a poem for the Facebook Age,
Catching its Zeitgeist Butterfly in nets,
Ultimate ‘selfie’ set upon the page,
A blog gone viral… want to read..? then lets!
For Homer it was proud Achilles’ wrath,
For Virgil it was Aeneas exil’d,
Sweet Dante stumbl’d down th’infernal path,
While Milton Gods & Mortals reconcil’d.
For Wordsworth it was Poesy’s growth within,
For Byron how the Poets moved thro’ men,
Sithen, no proper epic has there bin,
Good reason, then, to pluck & preen my pen;
Wh’encourag’d by that manna-blasted gang
I cast myself amang… & strongly sang;
BENEVENUTO
I am the Silver Rose & in these words confide;
Tis better to have lived than to have died,
& in these lives of highlights that we lead,
Preserve them in plush pots where poets store
their mead.
Occasions rise betwyx two kindred minds,
Whose love of poesia absolute
Lifts us up raptured, fairbright numbers finds
A marching drummer & a lilting lute!
To thee I leave my sonnetrie in trust,
Dear reader, as in these I am alive,
Tho’ most of them must join me in the dust,
Perhaps the better handful will survive.
When, tho’ my soul in this no longer grows,
While we share this still lives the Silver Rose.
EXHORTATIONS
If the world that you live for is noble
& to do yer damn best is yer dream,
You must train through the pain & the rain, son,
Then you might just get in the team.
Then its time to alight on the beaches
For your captain, your country & all,
Thats when passion becomes more a duty,
& yer name might just hang off a wall.
So c’mon, lad, you know yer can do it,
Dig down deeper than you’ve dug before,
With the grace of the Gods in thy favour,
You might just win it, no matter how sore,
Yes, you might be a true bloody hero,
What the hell are yer waiting for?
THIS IS A TIME
This is a time in which I hope a star
May fall upon my verse as if a Muse
Did take my soul’s expectant avatar
Punting along an Avon river cruise.
An actor on an upturn’d apple cart,
A singer chaunting in the Cheddar Gorge,
I cling to poesy with an open heart,
Which every beat a syllable doth forge.
A host of sonnets I shall raise to mind
To pay lip-service after I’m long gone,
These tremors of a zeitgeist underlined
As upon Ossa piles a Pelion.
This is a time through which I’ll hope I’ll fly
& life’s propitious frost devitrify.
MODERN LIFE
At this stage of Mankind's devolution,
We live in an age of air pollution,
Fat-cats & taxes, taxi fares, faxes,
Serial killers, silky leg waxes,
Condoms, modems, gimmicks, gadgets, gizmos
Two rubber ducks & comic book heroes,
Football... rock & roll... catwalk... movie stars,
Recession, depression & wonder bras,
Four packs & prozac, pylon countryside,
Anarchist daughter, schoolboy suicide,
Just-add-water, slaughter of Mother Earth,
Temple explosions, the Buddhist rebirth,
Not one inch left of this globe to explore,
But free of plague & free from global war.
THIS IS MY COUNTRY
Good Morning Great Britain
Still great, still Britain
The sun is shining, 10:45 AM
£296.26 pence in my pocket
Time to bet it all on black & hit the road again
But if time is a mere scratch & life is
nothing
& nothing that occurs is of the slightest
importance
From Aberdeen to Birmingham, Arundel &
Deal
From Dullis Hill to Rotherham, Bristol & Peel
From Inverness to Liverpool, Leeds &
Palmer’s Green
From Lewisham to Padiham & all the pubs
between
From Badminton to Twickenham & Barton-inthe Beans
From mud, thro blood to the green
fields beyond
This is my Time,
This is my Rhyme,
This is
my Country!
DOROTHY ROAD
There’s no gas, electricity or water in my
bohemian paradise
Section Six in the window of a townhouse
caravan
Five grand fine or six months if you try & drag
me out
Decorated by wicked paintings some artist left
in the attic
Furnished by street rummages & the local Oasis
shop
I mean, I transported my fuckin’ bed up in
pieces on the busses
Cookery on a calor gas stove - paper plates &
plastic cutlery
No brain-rotting TV - just Classic FM on a cheap
shower radio
Snap & crackle of an open fire fuell’d by wood
from the skips
Exercise: a home-made hockey pitch in an
empty room downstairs
Tesco’s toilets, job centre phones, Battersea
library’s internet
Britain’s largest sports screen at Clapham’s old
Grand Cinema
Tuesday’s pay-what-you-like theatre at the
Latchmere & BAC
& for washing a wicked swimming pool with a
slack front desk
REJUVENATIONS
Time has swung
here
now
is a shift
at
swift to this un-noticed
hour
in her
care
the dawn of
little of life is truly
O for a
lizard & a
to launch a Pegasus
most
age I am aware
in our
power.
wizard tower!
on swooning
far from parades of this,
wear,
when
dearest
the daily
little lives, in an instant,
sour
to give so much,
air
grow
to give & give some
more,
to strive in flux, to strive
soul,
with writhing
to banish from the mind the
that gnaw
thoughts
to keep the faith when
theirs
& heed
shall set a
others may lose
an inner call, however small,
person right in life’s
ON THE BUSSES
I’m sat on as bus
little fuss
few passengers
watch me sit
a black woman
a young punk
old man twiddles his tash
& in a flash
the bus sets off
planes wing over London
& as we reach Holborn
my brain
pretends to be elsewhere
dreaming of mysterious fancies
affairs?
NOW THAT I AM TWENTY FIVE
Now the landlords shouted, "Sup up!" at some jam
night down Camden,
Time has come for me to sum up some cool stuff
which I have done;
I have had a hundred ladies, & some of 'em
together,
Played football round the counties proudly for mi
Lancashire,
I have caught the Tallin ferry, composed poesie
midst Pompeii,
Trudged through muddy Glastonbury off my nut to
see Brown play,
I have master'd Fare Evasion, troubadour'd through
all my crimes
(Except fer one ‘boitelle du vin’ they reported in the
Times),*
I have watched my team at Wembley, been a
champion at chess,
Dodg’d the workplace prison mis'ry, nigh six years
free now from stress,
I have sang a classic album, formed a company of
kings,
Chased romantic ghosts through Belgium... these, &
many other things,
For I'm flush with understanding what it means to be
alive With a spirit quite demanding now that I am Twenty
Five!
* September 15th 2000
WESTENDERS
Twas a quintessential English evening
All about town & the capital's core,
On my arm a wonderful flutterling
Perfectly amenable to the tour.
We met in a wine-bar off Trafalgar
Then delv'd within a cosy eaterie,
To take our places at the theatre
With Agatha’s bewitching mystery.
O! the night brimm'd a goblet romantic
& our spirits, yes, they sparkl’d as the
stars,
Dabbling in the dapper ambisonic,
Floating… flirting… thro' my
favourite bars;
When to the chiming of the Big
Ben Bells
We caught the last train down to Tunbridge
Wells
THE GENTLEMAN'S ART OF GOOD WOOING
Sir, just as sea-galleons need proper manning
To act like a stallion needs dapper planning
Ride out in the morning, find snappy new shirt
Fine wine & fresh watermelons for a private
desert
Whether up in the Andes, or by the Atlantic,
Reserve a nice table with view quite romantic
& if in the city seek art, tho' not too much,
For sitting still together allows two hearts to
touch
& sir, to get the best out of screwing
Try the Gentlemans Art of Good Wooing
For a woman well-wooed in her bloom
Is a vixen when moved to the bedroom
Where kissing her neck-line with thrilling caress
Soon comes her bloom's plucking... her petals'
undress.
AMORETTI
There is nothing like a writhing woman
Astride the throbbing member of her man
When both of them, in panting unison,
Are climbing to a symbiotic scream,
& all the florid energies between
That first flesh-lock & silence satisfied.
Her bosom heaving & in full control
She rode my phallus to its full climax
O verve of man’s first sin, lust & romance
Express’d in its most physical conjoin
While thrusting cunnies subtly pleasure both.
Thro' clench & kiss we learn how to make love,
Until the wondrous woosiness of passion
Embraces both in drowsy sweetness
sound.
ROSY MORN
I’m alive… I’m alive for you
& all my love for you is burnin strong;
You are my Rosemary & like the Hebredes
You’re in my melodies when I’m in song.
You are my Silver Rose & when my loving grows
It falls like summer snows in golden corn;
Just one look at you gets me all coo-ca-choo,
Some drop of silver dew this rosy morn.
All those things you do, they keep me inter you
Just like the winter dew, you taste of spring;
When you take off your clothes you make me
curl up my toes
Your back unfurls as it grows an angel wing.
You are my Silver Rose & like a flight of
rainbows
I’m never comin down this Rosy Morn.
THE FADER CODE
1 Remain alert
2 Always keep your cool
3 Trust your instincts
4 Never show your money
5 Know your stations
6 Another five minutes won't hurt in the loo
7 Know your enemy
8 Know your postcodes
9 The train's going there anyway
10 When in doubt, clout
11 The train always comes when you're skinnin'
up
12 It is every Fader’s duty to baffle & confuse
13 Always remember your free cup of tea
14 There’s no need to rush - unless you’re
being chased
OVER GWYNEDD
I tackl’d Snowdon from the low Rhyd Ddu,
Infinite furlongs from her summit view;
The little cluster that is Liverpool
& many mountain masses minds enjewel,
The twinkle of the distant river Dee,
The rising lion of Aran Fawwdwy,
The quaint domain of old Dolgellau grey,
The epic sweep that keeps Cardigan Bay,
Dinas Emrys & her sleeping dragon,
Castles at Flint, Harlech & Caernarvon,
The isle adjacent to th’adjacent isle
& yonder Wicklow’s shadowy defile The British Isles have wrapt me all around,
Though in the heavens I still touch her ground.
THIS IS MY EPOCH
I was sat by my tent
Half-dreaming, playing with my hair
Staring at the air
& there, legs crossed
I found Homer
Or rather he found me
Close your eyes, he said, & see…
We surveyed a range of great mountains
As each was en era
Each era had a summit
& there the greatest poems peered out
On fellow eras & local slopes below
& I, striding this boiling lava flow
Thou uncool’d volcano of my times...
FINDING FOCUS
It was in Llandudno while trawling for food
That I had one of those mental moments
This black guy walked past me talking Japanese
On his I-phone, & I'm like what the hell
That’s incongruousness incarnate, innit?
Then from behind me this guy's peddling his
bike
Wobbling about like a right proper nob-head
& every five seconds his bike went <CLICK>
I'm like fer fucks sake, what was I thinkin’
again…
There is no such thing as matters of abject
slightness
The smallest drop of rain can feed a bush
Bushes feed a shrew, shrews makes falconfeasts
And so on, until man dines at the summit table
Or begs by dukes for scraps
BURNLEY BOUND
Poised almost home we hiked up Kinder Scout
In early April when the branches bare
Or glittering with leaves just starting out
Upon their quest to fumigate the air
& so, below all mysterious moors
Manchester rises from a distant plain
With all its red brick misery & laws
Its vehicles, its vapours, & its vain
Whose city craziness I here dismiss
For Burnley’s beddiness a day awaits
Where first my spirit felt its mother's kiss
Entangled in the fibres of the fates
But first… a moment settled on a stone
A breath of wind, the heather... & alone!
UNIVERSAL SOLITUDE
Far from the dubya-dubya-dubya-dot
That reconciles this planet into one,
If you wander high up to the hill-slopes
There lie upon your back, massag'd by spongey
moss
& look upon the sky, & muse upon a cloud
You could be anyone, anywhere, anytime
A Corinthian shepherd above the Roman fleets
A Mexican leper, driven from village streets.
It matters not whoe'er they were, or where
For this, the global moment before god,
When all mark'd equal are, this Shangri-la
Of little-ness & epic-ness, & light
When thoughts, by Urania elevated,
Reveal’d to flutter lofty, free falcons in soft
flight.
ON THE MOORS
Foxglove & thistle empurpling the trail
That modern man in motion wide discards
It was time to return to Lancashire
Across the heights that shadow Calderdale
& I, their poetical passenger
Orpheus pressing hard against my sail
& yes! It seem’d his song had form’d a gale
Why else allude to mythic Thracian bards!
I stand between two gangs of spinning mills
Twyx Cliviger & Bacup on the moors
& feel fresh winded nature thresh the hills
When all is energizing out of doors
& with the path steep-broken underfoot
I close the moment & my notebook shut
BEAUTIFUL LIVES
Where are you now with your beautiful lives
& your beautiful wives, & your horses?
Where are you now with your beautiful knives
As you dine on your beautiful courses?
Leap up & reach for the world open road
Where the antlers of stags are still living,
Face up to liberty, free up your load
For the chill of the night unforgiving.
On waking & feeling the splendour of morn
We aspire to the days new adventure,
Our feet are stll soggy, your clothes are more
torn,
With a vision of God in each vista.
With beautiful music in curses youve sworn
As you pace off your beautiful blister!
BURNLEY
You must know Burnley to see it's beauty,
Twixt Hambledon & Pendle where she lies,
Thou fertile region of the North contree,
Of Bingo halls & market stalls & pies,
Of cobblestones & Bovis Homes & lanes,
Of working men & the working men's pride
Of balmy days & snowy greys & rains
& blatantly the world's best football side.
You must know Burnley to see it's beauty,
The arches & the chimneys & Turf Moor,
The stately halls of Gawthorpe & Towneley,
The station & the bus-stop & mi door You can keep yer New Yorks, Delhis & Rome
At the end of the day there's no place like
home!
GANNOW TOP
Well I learnt to swim at the top o’ Rosegrove
& got a ten metre badge on mi speedos,
I was seven or so, & two years later
Went off wi mi class to the baths, n’ that
So as Im sat down wi’ mi mates on the bus
A poo started moving, a real turtle-head
& instead of rushing straight to the toilet
I thought I would get changed first, n’ that
Then, lo & behold, on mi cubicle floor
That self-same poo plopp’d down all goo &
stinkin’
So mi teacher made me clean the buggar up
Then sent me to sit in the stands, n’ that
Where I waited mi teasing classmates with
dread
But never, to their credit, was one word
said!
NO NAY NEVER
Well, mi name is Damo Bullen & mi loyalty’s a
full ‘un
& I’ve sang for Jimmy Mullen from the Longside
at Turf Moor,
Weather shining, shite & sullen, always claret
to the core
Only now &
evermore
You might think this out of order but I was an
Accy Roader
& mi mum could not afford a ticket for me
down Turf Moor
So I snuck in with the players about an hour or
so before
They’d unlock the
turnstiles’ door
Where I read Roy of the Rovers, tannoys
practicing voiceovers
Kissing all mi lucky clovers hid behind a toilet
door
Then moving to the Bob Lord when the first
Longsiders roar
Through, ‘No Nay Never No
More…
…& its No Nay Never, No Nay Never No More
Til we play Bastard Rovers, No Nay
Never No More’
ME
I love the smell of garlic on mi fingers
& The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe,
Can't stand a night of karaoke singers
Or the pain after stubbin' mi big toe!
I'm noble when defusing a punch-up
Or savin' spiders from a water-hole,
I get angry when chippies charge for ketchup
Or Burnley losing to a stupid goal!
It's silly watching synchronised swimmers
& awkward when ya kiss a girl’s moustache,
It's mellow trimming lawns with new strimmers
& buzzing when pockets cough-up lost cash!
'Cos when i'm not writing mi poetry
The little things in life are what make
me!
MI MUM’S
I breeze in, kiss mi Mum, butter some bread
“A phone call, letter, we thought you were
dead!”
“Mum, chasin’ destiny, I do great feats
But you treat me like Abbey treat Keats!”
“Yer no son of mine get a proper job
Yer nowt but a no-good, bone idle slob!”
The same old twitterin’ in mi ear lobe
I shit, shower, shave, raid mi Dad’s wardrobe
In the smoky club where men dodge their wives
Best bitter’s well cheap & smokosphere thrives
“Oi thats mi shirt!” “Owdo dad? “Owdo son!
“How was Italy?” “Sunny!” “Here’s a ton!”
Back at the ranch Dad snores through drunken
slumbers
As Mum rips up her her lottery numbers
MI’ DAD
Yes, I’m really glad yer mi dad, Dad,
Yer the best that a young lad could have, Dad,
Far better than the king of Baghdad,
Yer mi dad, Dad!
Aye, I’m really glad I’m yer lad, Dad
Cos I get to crash in yer pad, Dad
& chat to yer when I’m all sad, Dad
Yer mi dad, Dad!
Yer always so bloody well clad, Dad
& make the best eggs that I’ve had, Dad
But yer brews, bloody ‘ell, they’re so bad, Dad
Yer mi dad, Dad!
& better still, yer mi mate, mate
& I love yer, an that’s fuckin great!
AMSTERDAMINNIT
We’d trawl’d the long-haul of the motorway
& pick’d up more pot-heads past Birmingham
Jelly wobbles on the waves to Calais,
Mojo puked in the lowlands near the ‘Dam.
We rush’d to relax in the smoky cafes;
Tried Purple Haze & buy Sensemelia,
Each coffee & space-cake puff’d up the daze
Of a mushroom-gilded psychedelia.
We tram’d through ‘Dam to the sleezy district,
Pluck’d up Dutch courage for ‘Sucky fucky,’
Crack head whores begg’d at doors, wink’d to
be dickedIts a shame when you pay to get lucky…
Skunked-up, smashed to fuck, zombie bus,
bongtubes,
Grass stashed up Nicky’s ass, Richie’s
itchy pubes.
CLUBBBINIT
“Reyt, where next ?”
“West Bams on at the
Orbit…”
“…Nah man, too late…”
“…The Hac’…”
“…Nah, the beers
shit…”
“…Sankeys…”“…Nah man, it’s closed down…”
“…Wigan
Pier…”
…Nah, everyone in Wigan is a queer…”
“…Lets hit Blackpool, find a shit B & B,
& pick up fit chicks from some Hen Party…”
“…Nah, bin there, worn the crap hat, c’mon
team,
Let’s unleash these libidos down at
Cream!”
Razzin’ the freeway, babblin ‘bout the Dam,
With Techno Bangin <Bam-Bam-Bam-BamBlam>
"Mint mix, Richie,” "Yeah, Angels ninety-six!”
”…Ee-yar Damo” "…Ta Mojo, Oos next"…
Nicks!"
We park at the Arndale,
“Owdo lasses!”
Floozies ooze by,
‘Hey cuties, nice asses!’
LOVE @ FIRST SIGHT
A second glance… I did then realise
I’d felt the greatest love-fall of them all,
Hearing a lute-string’d, aether-breathing call
I look’d into her lustful, starry eyes...
....Like songbirds witnessing the world's first
dawn
Or proud parents cooing the babe's first
yawn
Like virgins witness to the breast exposed
Or an exploring of the always closed...
...Like mountain men & archipelagos
Or young sweethearts sniffing a first red
rose
Like money-men glimpsing a glint of gold
Or distant kin returning to the fold...
…your glance back told me you had felt
it too
You’d spend your life with mine & I with
you.
THITHER THE ABOVE
O knightly lights of heaven, star on star
You never shone so beauteous, we are
The work, perhaps, of some astral being
Or am I him now I am the all-seeing
Acolyte of the lost art of the skies
Painting Orion & the Geminis
Musing upon those long, eternal days
Soar shooting stars, trailblazing my amaze
Mixt with the phantom-llumin'd Milky Way
I saw, I swear, the Seraphim at play
Dancing between the planetary kings
Lord Jupiter & Saturn's eerie rings
enus is beaming streaming dreams of love
Sweetheart come hither, thither the above
ON COMING TOGETHER
I'll never pass another night
As sweet as ours was yesterday,
When all the world was set aright
& Angels play.
When, tingling, dance romancing tongues,
Then tender twisted, while your eyes
Contentment shone, we heard the songs
The Seraphim devise.
When like the running of a race
We reach’d the rope, there souls unpent;
& stroking trembling thighs, your face
Show'd passion spent!
When in the glow of halos I propose,
‘Love, let us be the Thistle & the Rose!’
LOVE’S DAWN
My love, as our love is spreading wider than the
morning
Together, with waking day, in the wake of night
Let us settle in silent ecstasy
Observers of cities below
Watching
From this high advantage
Developing
On heath, up hill,
Enveloping moments
As one
For like a
flight of swallows lift
On ocean winds, above the isles
We touch
Soft spirits sail higher
Eyes comitting
Pleasure beckons
Mercurial kisses
We smile
As kitten paws a mellow
mouse
The lion roars inside these feral souls
& we are born again, the music of the morn
Accompanies these energies love’s mysteries
supply
EIRE
From Liverpool the British Isles recede
Before another spreads horizon wide
& soon we have entered the Dublin pale
Divided by the sluggish Liffy flow
Refreshment lifts us from the Temple Bar
Through Bray into the gloomy Wicklow Hills
To spend a week at gorgeous Glendaloch
Then gallop west through Galway’s savage
peaks
To brave the fierce, grievous Atlantic spray
& scale the heights, some human mountain
goat,
& pace the ancient battle cairns of Cong
To Dublin back, across the bloody Boyne
We came to Belfast’s passionate divides
Where Scotland twinkles cross a Celtic Sea
PAISLEY
I’m cringing every time I see a proper Paisley
tie
I’d just popp’d hungry into Greggs a hottish pie
to buy
& chose a steak & kidney offer’d up for ninety
pee
I took the pie, she took the change & said, “It’s
ninety three.”
I said, “Love, that’s false advertising,” walking
out the door,
But never mess with Weegie Birds, they're all
fuckin' hard-core
& leaping from her hum-drum she pursued me
down the street
Looking as if an earthquake were shaking a
slab of meat
& panting now beside me squeez’d the pastie
from my hands
Smugging with satisfaction at her petty
jobsworth’s stand
& turns her tail in triumph, as back to her shop
she skips
You coulda balanced ninety three bridies on her
fat hips
Then looking down on what was left, my skin all
bruis’d with mince
I thought I’d catch the first train out – ain't ever
been back since!
GLEN COE
Before Glen Coe’s ghostly & ghastly peaks,
Lost Merlin lochs of savage Rannoch Moor
Move the soul to tears… a challenge appears
Inviting topaz slopes, we park up the car
Pop a wee pill & begin the ascent
An arduous climb at first with no fear
& then with no choice as the way becomes
dangerous
But soaked to the bones soon greeted by our
aim
O perfect precipice, perched just beneath the
clouds
We pause a moment, eyes keen to the skies
My friends these are the days of our lives
My wonderful vista, East, West, ah!
breathtaking
But rains close in now, we begin the descent
Soon bare-chested hill warriors in the breeze
SKYE BY NIGHT
I found myself on the edge of civilization
Not Tierra del Fuego or frozen Archangel
But Portree, place to be, ‘metropolis’ of Skye
Two thousand Highlanders sheep dip high
Europe’s second highest suicides among young
men
The place seems stepford-quiet as I am drawn
To the sound of celeigh at the Gathering Hall
“Can we have a drink?”
“I’m afraid ye cannae!”
“Is this a local party for local
people?
Sally hands me the
flyer
18th annual Isle of Skye
Alcoholics Anonymous gathering
Tonight’s theme… Tolerance
…& the place is heaving
SKYE
As Kestrels surf the mountain-fringed spaces
Road twists between saturnine gargants,
Romantic mounds of monstrous magma,
Marvelous munroes of aulden minstrel-song,
Lost in the moment, eyes keen to the skies,
Hard traveling unravels, sailing above us
Silver-fire mists of the sylvan alpine rise,
& beyond, entering the stunning scope
Of another planet, another Jupiter,
Sodden expanse of treeless waste,
But beautiful land, stupendous Cuillin hills,
Seats of Titans, where thrusting solar shafts
Induce startling notions of timelessness Here there is no time, only milky flowing
waterfalls.
LOCH FYNE
As I went walking round wild Ardkinglas
With sea-loch mist a wood-thrush swoop oerhead
My senses stirr'd as speechless I did pass,
The noble Fir, tall Beech & Rowan red.
I felt an Oak, as centuries have spread
The foliage of monarchies of trees
& canopy the soil on which are shed
Their leafy legacy! A deft sea-breeze
Has shook a flower-stalk as tho' to please
My love of natural things, a soul reborn,
Like pond & lilypad at perfect ease,
I found repose, harbour'd neath a Hawthorn,
To changing season's sensibility
I felt a pagan in my poetry!
SHANGRI-LA
Eurasia, Eurasia, from tip to toe
Men may wander thee forever in vain
From the sensuous sierras of Spain
To the towers of spangling Tokyo
Men have stumbl'd thro' Siberian snow
To the jungles where Ganges parts plain
Enough to send a troubadour insane
For Shangri-La a myth most never know.
Yet here lie the shores of Arabia
& the fjords of the Skull-helms of old
Here an angel-throne’d high Himalaya
& a castle of Prince Leopold
For here be defining Eurasia,
Reminding us with weathers manifold.
TWO WOLVES
Let us scamper under Munroes
As the rivers thro them move
& there all this love for you girl
'Midst the mountains I shall prove
Lets us skip along the loch banks
Where the coupling salmons leap
& there in the heat of summer
Lie two lovers sound asleep
Let us waken when the moon drifts
As she shingles thro the glen
Energizing haelan' songsmiths
With a fireside tale or ten
Then, love, let's scamper onwards,
Under Munroes, once again.
NORTHERN SUNSET
As times have swung again to strike the road
My eldritch muses glean a glint of gold
Perhaps a mile away, perhaps abroad,
Shall I be searching still when I am old?
How gorgeous is the red sun as she sits
Upon the haunch of Hoy, the Pentland Firth
As glass tonight, no epic pitch of wits
Twyx oceans girdling all this happy earth
A bannock moon hangs over John O Groats
& Dunnet Head summons us to a path
That leads down from this pinnacle of sorts
Along the sea-bashed coast to wylde Cape
Wrath
Where I shall seek out rosaries once
more
Tomorrow, yon the dreich Duncansby
bore
EDINBURGH
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HEATHER LODGE
My cities, I leave thee, gritty & grime,
This budding muse prepares the spirit’s ark,
Where bird-migration marks the pass of time
What was lifestyle now grey & stranger-stark
Like Guernica or Oranges-sur-Seine,
Once vivid colours growing daily dark.
These strange occasions wend my thoughts to
when
Wordsworth had found a stool to ease his mind
From crowded sensibilities of men
I, too, hope happy harbourage to find
Beside a world of green, where piny glade
By Vallambrosan cardinal design’d
For as Iona’s church from wattles made
The forum for a forest made fair trade.
PRESSMENNAN WOODS
Feel the feeling on the edge of summer
Hours before your first foggybummer
April, perhaps, or March on a good year
Out on the tracks with the shy, pregnant deer
Wearing that hat that you’ve worn all Winter
Skimming thro Plath or the plays of Pinter
Warming each pace in your courdoroy clothes
As petals do abud before the rose.
& all at once we lesson from our haste
& cardigans are tied about the waste
& soon we feel upon the naked arm
A zephyr-waft, so soft, so cool, so calm
& I shall follow them wher e’er they will
Free spirits, til the first Autumnal chill
SALLY CINNAMON
you
are
poetic
clever
sensual-amusing
sweet-sassy-sharing
warmhearted-caring
adorable-decadent
funny-joyloving
inspirational
kittencute
o baby
I love
you
so
!
SNOW WHITE ROBE
I drove in to John Lewis's with half-a-ton to
spend
Upon my ain respectable, delectable girlfriend
& found a lovely dressing gown so comfortable
& snug
So I could bathe in duvet bliss whenever we
should hug
& choosing one all snowfall white I bounded
stair on stair
Up to the fifth floor, feeling festive, rudolf thro
the air
To wrap her pretty present with the verve her
love deserves
But life, of course, the bloody thing, oft flings a
ball that curves
I noticed, to my horror, muddy bits the robe
endarks
(I should have bought the dark blue one I'd
spotted doon at Marks)
& being too polite to change the robe I thought
I'd nudge
The dirt onto strong sellatape ( & left a little
smudge)
To leave her opening impressions untainted,
almost,
One wash away from spotlessness,
robes whiter than a ghost
WHAT BLEEDS FOR FIVE DAYS & DOES
NOT DIE?
She moans about her hormones every second
week in four
Goes clattering the cutlery & slamming every
door
Like when we yearn’d tranquility, then found a
paradise
But she was full of PMT & said, "It's not THAT
nice,"
Yet women are man's reason, so when swings
the pendulum
Put on your safety helmet for the fireworks to
come She sulks & yells, her belly swells, her paranoia
grows,
Now fear the snarling werewolf where you once
could smell a rose,
Cos' women synch up to the moon, thats just
the way things are,
So never say "irrational," or let her drive the
car,
& if you feel frustrated in a very vocal war
Letting your lady win will just infuriate her more
But when the fun is over, son, there's one thing
you should do Embrace your woman, kiss her lips & whisper,
"I love you!"
SUMMER VISTA
Upon the steep slopes of Spott Dod
I sat, observing as a god
Surveys creation all below,
Through fields reflecting summer’s glow
The London train creeps past a car,
The wavy mane beside Dunbar
Grew angel blue, no northern sea
In glassy, grey conformity,
But more an Adriatic Bay
Ecstatic with a cloudless day
& I, above it, with the sheep
Some rustic Croat half asleep
Dreaming where men have rarely trod
Upon the steep slopes of Spott Dod
LOVE’S REPOSE
Ah Sally! Sweet Sally Cinnamon, hear,
Even now, after all that we've gone through,
From halycon highs to those awful lows
The fact we chose to share together,
Repose in Scotia’s fertile land; where fruit
Grows wild; remember gooseberries were
found,
Where Falcons vie with Crows to claim the sky,
Where vista-on-vista splendidly glows
Before eyes remember them when they close,
Where Whittinghame Water flows carefree,
Free as these souls of ours; suppose they met
But they were sleeping – when windy fate
blows
Life grows, so rose us from dim city streets
Like poesy from prose, come cherish this truth.
YESTERDAYS
“Do you remember the good old days?” asks
Sally
“The good old days were SHITE!” I reply,
“Just four television channels
The pubs shut at eleven
TV over by midnight
ZX spectrum games taking ages to load
& all that poverty & austerity
‘We were happy,’ people said
But we weren’t really,
Just ignorant & oblivious to progress!”
“I meant me & you,” says Sally
& I think I see a tear in her eye
“I do,” I say, “I do very much!”
& hugg’d her as a lover & a friend
MOODY BLUES
The spirit of romance is with us
A man & a woman & a dog
Listening to sea-girt violin concertos
The weather brimmels all unsettled
Full of gallivanting gulls, Tintallon's waves
& this single black eagle…
Senses shatter’d by a drunken Doonhamer
I mean… Sally plus PMT plus alcohol
Equals hell-sent banshee hell-bent on fury
Relationship psychobabble pierces our nirvana
“Its a long way to drive to have a row!” I
say
But she keeps on
scowling…
I slink to the tent, leave her staring out to sea
A fisher-widow searching for her longdrowned love
RABBITCATCHIN
I was house-sitting Yarrow on the edge of stir
crazy
Drinking & dreaming, thinking of screaming
So… I thought I’d take the dogs out for a walk
It was your classical attack pack,
Harvey, the overweight labradour, & his
spaniels harem
Molly, Larch & Bridie, three generations of
beautiful ladies
Gone scaring out the rabbits or the pheasants
for the guns
In the space of a couple of days they’d bagg’d
me both
Harvey’d jaw’d a rabbit while Bridie’d chomp’d
a bird
One or two googles later I held their life-guts in
my hands
Reptillian aliens spilling out of the mother ship,
Feathers blocking the plug-hole by decapitated
torsos
Hours later, eating tasty game, I felt a proper
man… like,
An eight-mile hike to Scotmid down East Linton,
there & back
LAMENTATIONS
There thrives for love a lively interest,
The love that flutters in those faerie dells
We all have felt, yet know not where she dwells
Behind the harden’d boneyards of the breast
Where seldom stays she longer than the guest
Who comes to visit when fresh asphodels
Have daily spoil’d beneath their fragrant shells
‘Til flung upon the muck-heap with the rest.
Our heart begins the journey beating whole
But fractures at joy’s maddening demise,
Some monkey, still alive, but lab-sliced ope;
A memory of home hangs off the wall
That was our happy place, & in your eyes,
When I see them moved on my tears bleed
hope.
]
DEPARTURES
As planets in their stolen orbits sway
Enraptured by the sun’s eternal day
So too must move the motions of the heart
& lovers from each other cleave apart
& so I go, some Rama far from Seeta
Or then again, maybe I’m yet to meet her…
As Autumn’s vegetation makes decay
Down Goldenacre-Warriston’s pathway
I see the sun rise up on Arthur’s Seat
& silhouette the city’s spinal street
This is, I think, a hint of things to come
Like Sufi’s singing Sindhi to a drum
Thus poet-prospects loaded up with ore
These feet shift forth to see Savitri’s shore
WAVERLY
Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis
Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes
Virgil
Round Whittinghame I took another walk
& at the Lodge with Sally softly talk
Of how our love was never meant to be
For love is but a fleeting mystery,
& in a daze I wander’d through the brooks
That led me to that little trove of books
When entering that lovely little church
Thro’ old Lord Balfour’s books I delv’d in search
& with delight I found prosaic lays
Like Waverly that once the world did praise,
In it the modern novel was design’d,
But now is nigh forgotten by mankind
Then pocketing an eighteen forty-one,
I’ thro’ the flocks, for Haddington was gone!
PORTOBELLO PARK
Edinburgh is the perfect place for a civilised
existence
Laura
Fiorentini
There was this Weegie at a car boot sale
Floggin’ his stuff at rock-bottom prices
& bartering thirty clubs for three quid
I starts marching thro toun, putter & wedge
Zigzaggin’ Bruntsfield links nigh every day
Where shot-by-shot I found the Tiger Zone,
After all, Embro’s still golf’s sacred hame,
On Musselburgh’s nine holes I upp’d my game
When, one day, Portobello, on my own,
& I don’t think I even paid to play,
But even so, stood on the tee-side edge
I yelp’d with glee! A real-life hole-in-one!
But no-one at the course or the houses
Witness’d my claim to golfing’s holy grail!
THE DALRIADA
Edinburgh's a great place– there's so much magic in
the streets
Dave
Navvaro
Astride the city limits, penn’d by wave
& Lothian’s God-Country rolling East
A palace stands which Linus would play proud
“Come in! Come in, you’re all very welcome
To the three o clock session, bring a drum
Guitar, pipes or violins, sing a song
You would think they’d been doing this for
years
Or at least since the Home Guard had moved in
Singing shanties as they saved the railings:
But no! Mere years ago a man & wife
With music in their blood bought up the place
& brought together local troubadours
With an increasingly ambient audience…
…In all my days I’ve never felt so
free.
SCOTTISH POETRY LIBRARY
It is hard to think of a better symbol of the kind of
searching, dynamic nation the new Scotland may
yet become
Catherine Lockerbie
As pleasure makes us read & reading makes us
know
& knowing makes us sing, & singing makes us
grow
‘Tis best to set in store the reliquary of song
A merry house of books which all can march
among
To cherish & sustain a native heritage
As Homer heard the tales of Menalean rage
Down here on Crichton’s Close a nation’s soul is
kept
The surge MacDiarmid surf’d, the dirges
Dunbar wept
Thro Scotland’s love of art & Gulbenkian gift
An avalanche of books available for sift
Come pile a table high, as shelf-by-shelf we
comb
To find that special verse or take those verses
home
If ever passing by, when under poesy’s spell,
Come pause & swoon & sigh where kindred
spirits dwell!
RABBIE BURNS
He used to sit in a very small room with one or two
friends only; but many were the visitors who called
in to gaze upon what they called the ‘coffin of the
bard’
J Stewart Smith
There is a certain knack to becoming an
immortal
As Orpheus’s heartbeat passes thro Pluto’s
portal
& Burns arriv’d at Baxter‘s Close by Lady Stair’s
fine house
Singing of reeking haggises & a wee tim’rous
mouse
& even as, on that first day, he copp’d a
‘gardy-loo’
Went shit-caked, wand’ring city-streets, without
a bloody clue
He knew if he could sing his songs the world
was sure to hear
& so, oor sweet Sordello, soon found Johnnie
Dowie’s beer
With enough space for a fiddle, & as the Argo’s
cox
He beats enchaunting rhythm thro his
native tides & rocks
& soon, at Mrs Carfrae’s door, his destiny would
stand
“Your little book of poetry the gossip
of the land!”
& soon, to Edinburgh, in thanks, oor bardie’s
pen address’d
Verse added to this new addition, both
Edina-bless’d
MURRAYFIELD LAWN TENNIS CLUB
Such honours come seldom to the history of any
club & we should all feel proud that Norma plays as
a member of Murrayfield &, in so doing, has brought
notice & distinction to the clubs name as well as her
own
Annual Report
Upon a bench I phantasize
Of Mrs Boothman’s apple pies
Smokie the Poodle nipping heels
Hot pots of tea & home-made meals
Wooden handles make hands blister
Everybody Mrs, Mr,
Or Miss, of pretty face & curve Eye-candy for the secret perv
Who lusts for frills each time they serve & nobly nods as out they crash
To Norma Seacy’s forehand smash!
“She’s won Junior Wimbledon!”
Ageing members tell each new one
Traditional custodians!
MENAGERIE
There’s always something new in the zoo
Max Richmond
When Noah’s Ark left two-by-two
They’d hurry back in if they’d knew
They’d one day end up in a zoo,
For all the fucking world to view;
The Wolverine, the Kangaroo
The Lesser, spiral-horn’d Kudu
The Chimpanzees in pirate crew
The Turacoo of violet hue
The coarse-quill’d, stiff-claw’d, casque’d Emu
Flies flocking to the Rhino poo
The Pygmy Hippo, & what’s new
The Ocellated Turkey too!
I climb the walls, midst human herds
An Alcatraz of Beasts & Birds!
MESOLITHIC CRAMMOND
The latest research on genes show that nearly all
persons of British lineage are descended from these
Mesolithic peoples.
Matthew
White
Twelve thousand years ago Crammond was
swept by a higher sea
Where on the beach our ancestors eked out a
winning existence
Living embodiments of the migration of
intelligence
“The proof is in the pits of nut-shells!” mutters
archaeology
Paleolithic, Neolithic, whatever they may be
Flint tools were used, stone arrowheads flew, so
they must have had some sense
More for practical eventualities, not to please
futurity
Mankind is older than the dust of lost forgotten
cities
& the monkeys & the dogs & the lizards we all
once were
There is a wondrous common-ness to which all
creation must answer
A pond of ancient memories, you can hear
them in the ditties
Sung by blind bards, & in the Spring when deep
down we remember
Being those plants gasping for life across
thirsty, frozen tundra
Like a baby turning towards the milky
breast of his mother!
BRITISH GAS
Hey Damo - Your latest email (I'm guessing your
latest sonnets) have crashed my company firewall
for reasons of 'profanity'. Naughty, naughty!!!!
Carol Aitken
A few years ago as I went bumbling all around
the Raj
I realiz’d my bumbag made me look a bit of a
bum-boy
& the books shov’d down mi backside in the
sun gave me a chafin’
So I got this guy in Delhi to make me a slick,
little man-bag
With enough room for mi books, mi weed, mi
passport & mi money
& a little extra space, today I carried a DVD
I’d borrow’d it from Yarrow, where the rainbow
shone sweetly
The fabulous Il Postino, where the poet Pablo
Neruda
Settl’d upon Salina, I’d like to go there, there or
Egadi
& promis’d to return it soon, with her office on
my circuit
She left her wide-view’d office at the very top
of British Gas
To meet me in the car-park, & said “I thought
that you would like it!”
Above her rose a leviathan, Xerxes gorging on
the grid
Profiting from half of Scotland’s insatiable lust
for power!
PORT O’ LEITH
We do get folk dancing on the bar, but they don't get
paid for it
Mary
Moriarty
Swamp’d in a sea of impedimenta
Scuzzily creative
All classes of late-night characters converge
For what can only be call’d an UBER-RAVE
All watch’d over by the diligent eye
Of the indisputable Queen o’ Leith
What magic myst’ries in her mistress eyes
Puzzlingly elated
Still sumptuous in style, Leith’s Lady Ga-Ga,
Like a mixture of the new Leith & the Old
Better than Betty Moss & Bet Lynch put
together
& a lady to be
serv’d by
Pamplona to Napoli, Galway &
Colne
It’s definitely the maddest pub I’ve supp’d
in
ANN STREET
The best thing is the peace and the fact we have
these small gardens. We have foxes and birds, but
apart from that it's very silent. It's a lovely
community.
Dilly Emslie
O wealth Karlsefinian, O pride Carthaginian
That vision of Raeburn, his mission to make
home
Midst fellow high-fliers with rich-filling coffers
Dona Jimena Diaz, the lodger De Quincey
A quality street by Queen Mother acclaim’d;
Exclusive, expensive, elusive advantages
Two gardens to tend to, a postcode of gold
But built before parking & permits &
penpushers
The mad, modern nightmare the New Town
now knows!
As bright lunar lamps
light the gates day &
nightly
Contented, this classical
address widely
crav’d
With wings like a mansion well over a million
Or more for the glory of lordlier life
All named after Raeburn’s
amazing young
wife
SCOTTISH NATIONAL GALLERY
During his stay at Edinburgh, after his return from
the Hebrides, he was at great pains to obtain
information concerning Scotland
James Boswell
Soul drawn by the knowledge I could find that
Claude
& Apollo & our Muses by the ford
Thro images delicious as fresh truffles Like pictures of The Christ & his kerfuffles I join’d my fellow acolytes of culture
Circling the paintings as a starving vulture
Waiting for something, some flash to catch the
eye
A Titians, a Reubens, a … my oh my!
Her face! So fair & accurate… & that horse
Silly me! It is an Aelbert Cuyp of course!
& native down the stairs McTaggert’s Kintyre
With Sir Joseph Noel Paton’s faerie fire
& Raeburn’s David Hunter’s country attire
Form the proof that Scotia, too, can artist sire
CALTON HILL
A thousand years of history
Are here crystallized
Within the circuit of a single glance
William Winter
I am the Silver Rose,
& with these streets shall fuse,
To etch my gift in rhyme;
For as our starbreeze blows,
It too provokes the muse
To join us, for a time!
She, for a time, shall serve
All manners of mankind,
Far delving through his realm;
For this is Scotia’s verve,
By Eldritch dream design’d
Some hell-witch at the helm,
In dragon’s furnace born,
By faerie fingers worn!
ODE TO SCOTLAND
Well I've been here for years, but its time to do one
I’ve sank a load of beers & I thank ye for the fun
Spinnin’ thro hootenannies with a bonnie halean
howl
Purrin’ with pretty pussies on an m-cat prowl
I've driven round Loch Lomond, walk'd five hundred
miles yon Tain
Gone roamin' in the gloamin' wrapped in midgeproof cellophane
I've organis’d four Jock Stocks with a need to make
ye dance
& scampered up yer Cuillin rocks as mountain mists
advance
I've mused thro an Ediniad of sonnets Reekie round
The best nights that I've ever have with best friends
that I’ve found
But something in a poet's soul must sail his craft
abroad
& leave behind the rock n roll, when lightening the
load
They'll furrow forth down foreign streams, forgetting
never they
Those places full of god-sent dreams, like Garvald
'neath the hay.
HELVELELLYN
Up stony slopes I huff, puff & scramble,
All a fluster in the blustery gale,
Eyes blinded by thick sheets of sleet & hail,
Clothes torn by the claws of thorny bramble,
My spirit, ‘gainst which angry Zephyrus
Summons all his strength, calls upon the
soul
Of our being, for being conquers all.
As I reach the epic peak, glorious
Realm of diety, barren heap of ice,
A blizzard-swept, Valhallan paradise,
I see, in the snows, a fresh Silver
Rose
& wonder how such sweet tenderment
grows,
Like the gorgeous gardens of ShangriLa,
In this frozen wilderness, like a star.
LAKELAND SUNSET
Visions of heaven roll out to the west,
The orb of morning clutching to her
chest
Our Starbird swoops thro’ burning
copper sky
Neath lilac bands behued as
harvest rye,
Lands perfectly, & with mystical
craw
Perches her talons high upon
Skiddaw,
Completing
ephemeral embassy,
Nestling for the night,
snuggl'd in airy
Clouds of rosy dusk, moonbeamdappled hulks,
Eerily drifting as the Dark Knight
skulks
Round his coal-charred kingdom, shapeless &
starr'd,
Where each bright twinklet is a
crystal shard
Studding evening's armour, which when worn
brings
The stunning universal thing-of-things.
.
PILL POPPIN’ POET
I get to the Firkin, deep in Broom Hill
Where mi old mate Paris is a-dealin,
He exits the loos…A fiver a pill!
Stock’d up & rockin… the Friday feelin’!
The saviour of the modern-day raver
Lies in the marvellous Mitsubishi I chew on a pill, swill down the flavour,
Tastes a bit fishy like years old sushi.
Through the Steel City's seven lampstrewn Hills,
I stroll, the party starting quite early,
Saturday night?
A pocket full o’ pills!
Superstylish?
Absofuckinglutely!
A troubadour buzzing through Birley
Wood
A bag of wrecky eccies to
the good!
200 MILES
Beyond the crooked spire of Chesterfield
A monotone midlands mumbles by
We reach the Nam* - high rise after high rise
100 miles to go to the next big smoke
Sat with Colombians on the Silverlink South
Coke barons, businessmen, probably both
BIRMINGHAM INTERNATIONAL
The Colombians head for home
Coventry & the dull red rows of Rugby
Milton Keynes & Watford Junction
We enter some terrifying & yet terrific vastness
Two hundred & fifty square miles of concrete,
parks & cars
Wembley, Queens Park, Paddington, Oxford
Circus
Suck’d deep into the capital with an electric
roar
* Birming-nam
COCKNEY CRISIS
So this is London still, a half-life past
Since first I fled here fourteen years ago
Sensing this soul his young foal far surpass'd
For then I lusted for seraglio
All vice & virtues then were mine, & known
All England's faces, snowflake different,
& now another of set of sonnets flown!
Am I too late this river to repent?
But knowing not the towers of Tashkent
Nor writing haiku through a Nippon night
Sat underground assuming new intent
Til Stratford, where out into the sunlight,
I find myself on roads ne’er walk'd before
What tides shall take me forth? & to what
shore?
COMMUTER LOVE
Somewhere out there is another little freak who will love u
and understand us and kiss our three heads and make it a
Carrie Bradshaw
She shivers in vain under the old clock tower
Drizzle spate, lover late, fizzling date
"The 17.17 from Dover Priory
Has been diverted via Bat & Ball..."
She walks morbidly into Unwins
Buys a bottle of cheap red Chianti
To take home to its depressing glass
Tonight she’ll romance Albert Square
& a fisherman's pie from Tescoes
Laced with white-hot jallapeno...
Then... the EUREKA knock at the door
& stood will stand there, slick-soaked hair,
& said,"Sorry, Daphne, I've had a total
nightmare!"
"Drive next time!" she’ll whisper, kissing him
prodigiously.
INNER CITY LIFE
In the inner city, there's a mentality that the government
owes you something.
Mary J. Blige
In London every tree you see’s a willow
Drooping sadly in the poisonous air,
Airless stacks are the soul-sapping pillow
Where only money-mongers seem to care.
The M25 means captivity,
I mean, what is there left to delight us,
Lust-for-life crush'd through blind servility
Barely sooth’d by these dancey all-nighters!
Traffic encircles concrete conurbations,
Mobiles by the millions melt the mind,
Germs breed in the underground stations,
This microcosmic mirror of mankind.
In London life is wonderful, we’re taught,
In London every person is a passing thought...
THE HACKNEY SCHOOL RUN
OH MY GOD! I’m having a nightmare
Fuck, look at the fucking time!
“SHUUTTT UUUPPP!!!”
The kids are doin’ my head in
With their school-stuff everywhere
“Here’s yer shoes, here’s yer socks,
Heres yer fuckin’ sandwich box!”
“MUMMY… don’t swear!”
OH MY GOD! Its ten to nine now,
& my car-keys JUST ARENT THERE!
Will it rain, will he call
Will I end up on the dole
O my god its five to nine now
& the traffics hits a wall!
FITZROY ROAD
On monday morning at about 6am
Sylvia gassed herself
She asked me for help, as she often has
I was the only person who could have
helped her
& the only person so jaded by her states
She seem’d to be getting in good shape
She was writing again
She was making enough money
Winning commissions & good reviews
Then a series of things, solictor’s letters, etc
Piled up, she flared up,
The doctor put her on heavy sedatives…
& in the gap between one pill & the next
She turned on the oven
TOWER HILL
Before the fortress the angry mob calls
To the ‘ooded axeman,
"Off wi' 'is 'ead!"
Traitors believed they'd be better off dead
Than a rottin ghoul in these devlish holes…
Thousands of epitaphs scrawl'd into walls
Tongue worn by black tongues…
In this
clammy dread
A doom-dripping gloom from which all hope
hath fled,
A phantom's tortured wail rises
then falls.
Thumbscrews, iron maiden, stretch'd on the
rack
Flailing cat 'o' nine tails raking the back Foul instruments of an inquisition.
What cruel devices have we in their place,
In this age, to form an equal grimace?
Try sitting thro' a full
Eurovision!
TAKE-OFF
There is a built-up weight of images &
memories
Within ceaseless recepticles, buds of floral soul
& as we rise oer England, as free as air men
breath,
Bursting earth's first clouds, come seize such
scenes
of seas & trees & mountains & a sky
cerulean!
Reminding us of Italy, tis
not long now,
Before thy vintage
viganettes, once more!
Moments as these, allied to epic thought
Propel mental liasons, 'Sir, dally with one-upman-ship!
No Homer ye may be & yet we rove those
overskies
Once-peopled by his poesy, with all the winds
of Jupiter
Go laptop peppering, no need for rhyme's
remembrance
Though that will roll inevitable when Italy
unclogs thy heart
& pours love down's life's arteries for the
ghosts of a noble cause!’
IN AEREO
Tis a fabulous day to be flying
Over England & her summer-bronz’d fields
Her towns & cities shaped like knitted shields
& Thames - lucid blue reapplying
Now Antwerp passes ‘neath us in a ring
& Amsterdam a pleasure to behold
Now banks of cloud glide under glinting gold
As oer Europa’s plain unseen we wing
Now from the mass the rank & file emerge
In polka dot procession to the Alps
That tumble upwards & their snowy scalps
Upstrain to touch us, behemothic surge
Forming the one land wall of Italy
Where souls of lofty softness oft set free!
FARFALLA
*
*
*
*
*
skoenlapper
*
*
*
nipwisipwis
liblikas
farasha
titli
mariposa
dimago
burabiro
sommerflue
mot'l
petalou'da
paruparo
pi sugnya butterfly uvevane
kupu
lupelupe
vlinder pulelehua
papillon
lilldeh
popti
peplim
papalotl
txipilota
choochoo
prajapathi
papilio
lepke
perhonen
luvivane
flutur
bimbilo
kupukupu
peperuda
huitzil
fuf lao
gorgoleta
kelebek
borboleta
babochka
kakupo
tauriuö
bembe
kipepeo
woo deep
bayboum
zanimo
fithrildi
serurubele
bulubulu
ramarama
mpornboli
hevavahkema
parpar
fluturi
metulj
fefe-fefe
pepeo
pili-pala
schmetterling
pillango
marlimarlirni
oguyo
shavishavi
parvaneh
sommerfugl
fjril
samanalaya
LA SCALA
There is a way to make a poor man rich
Bedazzle him with beauties, to distill
Life’s quintessential essence, without which
Drouth drains the inkwell, uncouth cracks the
quill!
Yes, set him free, some large & open hall
Where from the soft & guileless rise of strings
Both passing urchins & the wealth-set stall
Rais’d on adagionic angels’ wings
Then let us listen synasthesean
Turning to worderie these mimesi
Which bubble from the orb’d empyrean
Wall’d-workshop of a makar’s primal eye.
Where listening to some lush-string’d Quartet,
The Mousai bless him with ae fond bousette!
ADRIATICA
Serene afternoon... the streets of Rab are quiet,
the stones
I step on as smooth as silk…the sky…cloudless,
deep azure,
Collar turned up I begin the ascent, the terrain
A plethora of white, jagged, quartz-like stone.
Half-way up the yellow, flower-trumpet dotted
peak
I gaze back on an island, evergreen forest-realm
Silky-still lagoons, snow-capp'd mainland
mountains
& Rab’s marble township jutting out like luxury
liner.
My ears strain for noise, relieved by buzzing fly,
& bleeting phalanx of sheep, led by rustic Croat
Whose rocks usher stray ewes & lamb back to
the flock.
As the sheep disappear I resume my scrambling
climb
Up this lizard-strewn gully to the stony summit,
& feel
Some mighty wind thundering across a thousand
islands.
LETTER FROM LORETO
O Sally when if ye’d come to Italy,
Some honeyfly wupon a Tuscan eve
beneath those happy stars we could conceive
Join life-threads in a living tapestry
Then to this Papal shrine our love I'll lead
Where god's own salvific omnipotence
Shines thro' this black madonna's soft presence
Where pleas of budding mothers angels heed.
How quiet are these walls of Nazareth
Beneath Maccari's frescoed dome sublime
& there let us entwine our hearts, our breath
& ask for little life to bliss our time.
Where pinning sacred ribbon to thy breast
Lets hope our triduum by dio blest!
RECANATI
Into Gagliole the ticker-train drew
Scenes full of secrets fresh vistas renew
Poetical delight!
Citta del molto chiase ahead
I have hope, I have wine, I have shoes, I have
bread
& I have appetite!
Siamo amiche, Guiacarmo Leopardi
Vedo la sua mura, gli archi e le colonne
& belvedering bliss
Soul desiring infinity in an astro mirabil
Il pensier del presente do race & reel
As amorose kiss!
Into my mind such predeliction storms
While nationhood creates its native forms.
CASALINO
More tranquil than the murmour of a rose,
The piazzas of Pratovecchia,
Bethlehem-twinned, harbour a sweet repose,
Calm cluster shepherds call Casalino Here Dante mused upon his fifth canto,
For Paulo & Francesca tears did pour,
Mixing with the streamlings of the Arno,
Flowing to ev’ry Italian shore A place to set poesia in store,
Where sacred sisters break the ancyent bread,
There, summoned by the grunting of wild boar
Into a place where feet have seldom tread,
Not life nor history shall help mine art,
Just fragrant music of the valley-heart.
Pui tranquilo del mormorio della rosa, la piazza
di Pratovecchia, Betlemme-gemellare, rifugio
una villagio dolce, amosso calmo il pastori
chiamato Casalino - Ecco Dante meditato il suo
cante cinque, Lacrime versate per Paulo &
Francesco, Mescolato con il fiumicello giovane
del’Arno, Scorando a tutta la riva d’Italia – Un
posto per consevara la poesia, Dove les suore
sacreto spezzanno il pane antico, La, convoco
presso il gruniri dei chingialo selvaggi, Dentro
un bosco dove un piede ha calpestato
raramente, Non vita ne storia auiteranno la mia
arte, Solo musica fragrante del cuore delal
valle.
GRAN
As Dante found himself in some dark wood
My soul has been tormented since ye died
But holding back time's tears, my weary flood!
I waited for your light to be my guide.
As Virgil took step with the Tuscan bard
Thro Hell’s inferno to the face Divine
I travell’d far & tho’ the way was charr’d
I climb’d a peak & waited for a sign.
About, the bells of church & cattle sound
As I pursue this bed of dried-out stream
My sad heart breaks! An ickle trickle found
Lit by a leafy sunbeam-dappl’d gleam.
& in these, the highest headwaters of the Arno,
I scatter'd her ashes in this sweet flashing flow.
CAMPALDINO
Across the sheer Consuma Pass the Papal
Guelfs did steer,
To permeate the Poppi plain, the Ghibellines
appear,
Noble Swabian lineage with rival war ensigns,
Amplified by Catenaian Alps & spangling
Apennines
The sun had risen muggy on Saint Barnabas's
day,
Where over Verna, Francis of Assisi’s hands did
pray,
Dante Alighieri, far beyond his metaphors,
Stood in the first line of the Guelfs, the fearless
Feditors,
& faced the charging enemy, & yes he was
afraid,
Protected by Apollo many mortal parries made,
As now the Pavesari wrap around the fading
foe,
Who drop their shields & fled the field,
splashing thro the Arno;
The Guelfs did claim a victory & furthermore
the pride,
‘Come Dante,’ said Boccacio, ‘Let us to
Florence ride!’
A REPLY TO DANTE
In the first sonnet in his Vita Nuova, Dante
Alighieri asks his fellow poets to explain to him
a dream in which he saw his ver-beloved
Beatrix. The request was granted in the
sonnet-form by many of his contemporaries,
including the famous Cavalcanti.
I reckon it was not love that you saw
But manifested images of soul,
For when a muse first to her care dost call
The bard, then dreams rise vivacious & raw.
From vixen Beatrix such pictures draw,
O blazing heart, thine art set to install,
Thy weeping man, emotion’s pensive squall,
To rave about these as is natural law.
Back when you ask’d us you were but a boy
Basking in your quattordici versi,
Probing, excitedly, life’s wild answers.
In love so unrequited ye found joy
Indulging in a world of phantasie,
Not the sweet’ning realness of romances.
TO SALLY IN SILENCE
We
We
We
We
are
are
are
are
the music of the finches green
twa pussies purring by the fire
the fragrance of a vernal scene
twa frogs full-throated with desire
We
We
We
We
are
are
are
are
the thistle of your bonnie land
twa rabbits sprinting cross the glen
the seaweed wash’d up on the sand
twa badgers snuggled in their den
We
We
We
For
are morning in the Balkan enclaves
are night on the sea of Araby
are twa birds gliding on the white waves
we are one in nature, you & me
So spread your wings & hurry here to me
This Paradise of Exiles, Tuscany!
REQUIEM @ CASSINO
On the day my mother died I walk’d up to
Cassino
O tis a place of death if ever there was one, my
friend
For six hard months the Gustav line murder’d
thro an empire
& the Poles who fought for Warsaw in a country
far away
As the abbey gleam’d ethereal in the day’s
fading light
Into this dark cathedral I drove on my
stumbling steps
& found two soft believers praying at an altar
Backs to a tumbling organ (hewn by goblins I
am sure)
Kneeling before a painting of a young Mother
Mary
Who posed uncanny likeness to my mother
when she young
& all emotions flooded thro’ me wailing for an
outlet
Until they left, & then I knelt & then I pray’d for
her
Who brought me up into this world, & thankful I
am for it
Writing this sonnet neath the moon in a still
mountain air
THE ART OF LOVE
(from Ovid)
Children of cupid note down thy name;
Best you believe all women may be won,
Promise her presents to charm her armour,
Wear rose-fashion'd clothes like men of milieu,
Be aware of your hair & trim thy chin,
Say her face is fair, her eyes are like skies,
Blood warm’d by wine fair spirits flame & flow,
Lust multiplies with each draught that we drink,
Choose not for certain if thy day is drunk
For wine gilds women with looks & laughter,
Speak & with speed, for Venus loves the brave,
& females forced e’en to their true desires,
Then comes the kiss & when passion express’d
There leaves but little rusing for the rest...
9 AD
Thro the Teutoburger Wald went the arms of
Varius
Arminius of the Cherusci made his excuses
& soon a ghoulish baritas surrounds the sons of
Mars
Chaunting for Lord Tuisto & Odin amidst the
stars
The chiefs fighting for victory, companions for
their chief
They set out all for slaughter, no quarter & no
relief
A black storm rages all around the javelins &
spears
The fallen Goths are carried off to dry the
widow tears
Three days of carnage rampant in the dark &
marshy wood
The roman gen’ral cuts his throat & gurgles on
the blood
Some men cast off their armour & await the
lethal blow
Only a lucky few would safely reach the Rhine’s
wide flow
The news reaches Augustus, flying thro
grieving regions;
“O Quintillius Varius, give me
back my legions!”
THE NAZARENE
Gethsemene
Judas rope
Archmagus
Sadly maintain the scandalised Sanhedrim
Leaning their wills upon the Roman whim
The Pilate’s orders murder the son of Him
To Calvary
A Crucifix
Sanguinus
Human sin
Son of god
Devils day
Pious fires
Epiphanies
VAGABONDO
Solo, sono stato viaggio,
Dalle complessite senza vita,
Di villagio a villagio,
Panarami di vista a vista -
Oh! sospiri del Viarregio,
Oh! scheletro catta di Calcata,
Solo, sono stato viaggio,
Dalle complessite senza vita.
Stelle quando sono campaggio,
Pensiero sulla passagio,
Oh! isola balerno di Ponza,
Oh! piazza confortolvelmente,
Oh! bellaza di Portovenere,
Oh! Non complicato mezza-vita!
Alone, I went wandering, from complexities
without life, from village to village, panorama
from view to view - O! sighs of Viareggio, O!
skeletal cats of Calcata, Alone, I went
wandering, from complexities without life.
Stars when I am camping, thoughts upon the
path, O! whale-island of Ponza, O! comfortable
city-squares, O! beauty of Portovenere, O!
uncomplicated half-life!
MEMORIUM TO THE PASSAGE OF TIME
Shelley has somehow made my library
& instantly I mused back to that time,
Far from these heady days in Sicily,
When Tuscany enthubulised my rhyme,
Remembering that perfect Pisan clime
When Kapitano drank thro our brief fling
By Arno side, & as I sang sublime
He pluck'd our lira like a beggar-king,
I pass'd those sweet siestas composing
Pretences of dining with Byron's crew,
Now summer rises from the finest spring
& years along those dreams I had seem true,
Wintering in Sicily's hinterland,
A palace & a pen on either hand.
BELOW SCOPELLO
To become, to belong, bohemian,
So many miles my smitten songsmith sent,
Striving for prospects paradesean
In an immortal moment's monument Time carves us this vista Tyhrennean,
Tranquilo corner of a continent,
To become, to belong, bohemian,
So many miles my smitten songsmith sent.
This rocky cove, this tower, this mountain,
Blend in an often prophesied fusion,
Sweet Sicily!
Sat silent & content,
Recently have my dreams increasing seen
Visions of places I had never been
Where I should sit a songsmith & invent
ERICE
Italia d'oro
Paradiso di pensiero esiliato
Regina di poesia
Sicilia sublime
Cuore di oceano antico
Cucina di cultura
Animato Trapani
Smeraldo del Mediterraneo
Delizia di pescatori
Magnifico Egadi;
Farfalla Favignana
Pigro Levanzo
L'onde riflettono il sole
Marettimo splendida estensione
Golden Italy, paradise of exiled thought, queen of
poetry
Sublime Sicily, heart of ancient ocean, cauldron of
culture
Busy Trapani, emerald of the Mediterranean,
Fishermen’s delight
Magnificent Egadi, butterfly Favignana, lazy Levanzo
Waves reflect the sun, Marettimo spread splendid
BATTLE OF THE EGADI (241 BC)
Tween Trapani & fair farfallan isle
The fleets of Rome & Carthage meet at last,
The captain of an age the day would prove
& as the tides of battle ebb & flow
A shepherd hears their furious phrenzie
Come nightfall leads his flock toward the shore
The dead’s crude stench uprisen with the sun
Heart-wrenching was! A sorry scene of war,
Who is conquer'd, who is the conqueror
He could not tell, a sanguine sea bestrawn
With floating corpses, men condemn'd to die
In hopeless sacrifice, this crimson cove
Would never wash the bloodshed from its rocks,
Like rich red wine adance white, cotton sheets.
MARZEMI SUNRISE
As all the sky grew lighter at the change,
With pastel arms, from rich & vivid heart
Emboldening & merging with god's art,
The peachy dawn reach'd round the 'risons'
range,
As milk-white sea caressess waves to shore,
Which kisses rock, bows gracefully, takes
leave,
Where rising from the lands of make-believe,
The red, all-seeing eye that I adore.
Though you are far away in outer space,
All other images crumble to dust,
Filling with feelings more than love or lust
My humble soul enters that special place
Of two spirits conjoind by nature's hand,
One omnipresent, one a grain of sand.
THE SEA
The sea is a canvas horizon frames
Colours adjusted by aerial cloud,
From dark, stormy lead thro red solar flames
To pleasant pastels heavenish endow'd.
The sea is a life-line for those that farm
Net-dredging from lean runs to purple patch
When sneezing sepia cast out an arm
Over the dying comrades of the catch
The sea is a liquid field of battle
Waves rising to a howling hurricane
Fishermen fight the shaking sail-rattle
Neath flashing lightning & phosperant rain
Here, mankind, truly finds tranquility
On a sea heaving to infinity.
GRECIA
During the long course of my poethood
My song I have prepared for this moment
At last! to Grecia by my Muses sent
& in my heart I knew they always would!
Upon Italic plateauxs I have stood
Hoping to glimpse her shores through
mountains bent
Between the mists, that shuffle innocent
From peak to peak, as only phantoms could!
Am I some Telemachos coming home?
Or Eumea drifting in from Elis?
Or Phaecian vessel spurting thro the foam
When in the hold slumbers Odysseus?
I am these things, & many more beside
For they still live til poetry has died!
HERMES
O! God of scholars, travellers & theives,
I pray, lord, watch my labour
& all success & grace which it receives
Offer to thy favour
O keen-eyed giant-slayer, never old,
On sandals mountain-skimming
Vvarnish'd with an untarnishable gold
Heed my mortal hymning
O son of Maia! if one hundred eyes
Yearn to hurt me dearly
Grant me bad weather or a clever guise
& I'll vanish clearly
Lord, find me antidotes when I 'm grown ill
Or cloaks & tunics come the winter's chill
ON DEPARTING THE SANCTUARY OF
OLYMPIA
Until we meet again, Olympia!
When I shall raise my daughter to the height
A toddling flame
& as the morn-pink roses, would show her
The very scene & in the very light
I chose her name
My love, as I sit waiting for a bus
To Tropea or Pirgos, either way,
I think of thee!
& wonder if the future holds for us
A glitter-girl to please us in her play
Our bouncing bee
Who, when she's sleeping looks as sweet as
you
& laughing, me!
STERCA HELLAS
Where Autumn-tinted peaks rise glorious
I hitch’d a lift, a lorry-load of bales
Whose little houses sing their hearth-side tales
Old stories of this hoary, mountainous
Regions of those hardy handsome hunters
Fed by their ever-fattening females
Where taxidermy, of the arts, prevails
& portraits hang with pride for ancestors!
The Mornou Dam sits like a precious stone
Heart of a highland chain that god-like rings
This worl wher only poets dare to chance
& each of them, I sense, was once a throne
For spirits older than Olympic kings
Where Cronos dined & Titans loved to dance.
TO DELPHI
As careful steps & aiming for the post
Must bring us ever closer to our goal
Thro’ sharp-barb’d thorny burnett hack’d my
feet
Urg’d on by robins perch’d on pungent spurge
Along an ancyent path of broken stones
Which Idomenus trod before the truce
I mountain-goated past four snarling hounds
Stone-showers scatter, man’s best friend or
nay!
The bravest follows at a distance
A fine black bitch, til gladly I arrive
By Delphi’s walls, a troubadour no more,
Strange tortoise, with a home flat on my back,
Ready to rest, & write, & relish life
Upon the rocks where Orpheus once roam’d!
CASTALLIAN SPRING
So this is the heartbeat of poetry,
From holy Parnassus, uprising sheer,
These magi-waters of empyrean,
Pulse down from such a theatre of stone,
Them pouring thro' the depths of my studies,
Where in a sketch I see gargoyle faces
Perhaps by Hobhouse in Lord Byron's 'Life'
Who came up, too, to taste the ancient spring
Upon his very famous 'Pilgrimage,'
While mine is ended here... I sup the mead
A hint of minerals, revitalised,
I swear to all my Muses I shall be
A poet still, & if they ride with me
To England, I shall build them temples there!
LUCID DREAMS
I have scaled the slopes of Parnassus peak,
Rode bare back upon the last Pegasi,
Disturb’d the dusts of Cassandra’s antique,
Chaunted her scrolls so she shall amplify,
All the Muses be my guide…Ah! but I,
Feel vain endeavours have lain low my heart
Despondent by the Isles of Misery,
For am I now the victim of mine art,
Another broken fool to poetry?
E’en tho’ thy juice tastes lily-sweet to me,
Like sailing on a lake of mountain air,
All thro’ my soul the xanthean fires flow free
T’where my mind’s music strips the passions
bare,
So be it, I shall roam, t’where life’s demands
declare.
THERMOPYLAE
Napoleon, in Amiens, the crown!
Wrested from papal clutches, his own hands
Placed steel upon his brow, Corsican clown
No longer, but an emperor of lands!
I came upon a plain of dreams & steam
A spartan in my body, duty, rhyme
Where Leonidas & his polis cream
Defied the best of persia in their prime
On noble Kolonos a monument
Topp’d by a laurel wreath, I gladly felt
That thro the muses it was sent to me
As I before phoenician letters knelt
Bending the branch into a perfect ring
& crown’d myself, at last, a poet-king!
EMAIL FROM THESSALONIKA
As every maid Odysseus posess'd
Pinn'd Telemachus, home, hard to their breast,
I want to wake beside you every day
Tell you I love you, ask if you're OK
Give you a kiss if you're going to work
Or hide if you're menstrual & going bezerk
For ye are the one thing I crave here the most
Ycamped on the crest of this ocean coast
Where under me sea nymphs whisper your
name
While above glitter stars with your eye-light's
flame,
As an eagle glides by me as deft as you do
All these & this singing reminds me of you
For you are the music that livens my drumming
Be patient, my love, I am coming...
37,000 ft.
He who tells or hears this tale shall reach the same
place
Bhishma
Across Europa we have both progress'd,
By foot, by boat, by tram, by bus, by train,
But this hour, from a cool & pleasant plane,
Sees me sailing air on a grander quest,
The scenes by cyan skies & soft cloud blest,
How seldom seen & varied the terrain
Of ashen peak, urban sprawl, verdant plain,
Gleaming sea, wastes of sand & wylde forest.
As soon as we abandon Europa,
I could already taste the eastern scent,
The sun was setting west of Syria,
The starry heavens singing its lament,
As somewhere yon the grey Arabia
My pilot was beginning his descent.
THE EAR CLEANER
After reaching India I spent some time on
going about the country
Ghandi
Stepping out one golden Goan morning,
Drowsy with the sunken sun’s adorning,
Content I was to be in nature’s hand,
Soul-freshen’d as bare feet sunk into sand,
From out of nowhere stept a wizen’d man,
“Sahib! cleaning your hearing well I can!”
Shows Western praises in his little book,
Black blocks of wax from both my ears he took
I shook the hand that scrubb’d my hearing
clear
Said fond farewells & watch’d him disappear
Round red & rugged hill flank'd by the view
Of Konkan coast careering into blue,
When first found I the profits of his fee
I’d never known how sweetly sounds the sea!
KERI BEACH
If I were asked under what sky the human mind has
most fully developed some of its choicest gifts, has
most deeply pondered on the greatest problems of
life, and has found solutions, I should point to India
Max Mueller
I watch'd the reaching out of Dawn's arms red,
Both wrapp'd about the beach on which I led,
Saw little twitters skip the zenith crest
Of waves flung shorewards, falling foam
abreast,
Ahead, the full moon gave the waves good
gold,
Behind, deep-banded amber branding bold,
When starry rays made way for planets three,
They, too, into the blue illume did flee.
As round the moon floating rose-fingers meet,
Morn's cyan-curtain'd opening complete,
As fishermen & dogs begin day's dance
Still on the sands I lay, a man entranc'd,
For as the full moon into air distills,
What flaming sun-chink winks out from the
hills!
OLD GOA
When the missionaries came, they had their bible &
we had our land. They taught us to pray with our
eyes closed, & when we opened our eyes we found
that we had their bible & they had our land
Jomo Kenyata
They were the first white faces to arrive,
& the last fascist faeces to depart,
Whence inbetween a race envangelized;
You can still taste the breeze of the Tagus
By Mandovi, in spacious Spanish rooms
One takes whenever pausing in Panjim,
O pocket Portuguese emporium!
The stuff of fallen empires lingers near,
Array'd as if an eastern Nuremburg
Had Speer inspired, these barrel-vaulted rooves
So cleverly conserv'd, where faded scenes,
Like Shivapurams on a temple wall,
Paint papal hagiographies, spread proud,
Around us in the old Latino style!
TO ALL THE GIRLS I'VE EVER NAILED
My body remembers without benefit of words, that
men who do not welcome girl-babies will not
treasure me as I grow to woman - though he call me
princess just because the Guru told him to
Chetan Bhagat
To all the girls I've ever nailed
There’s only one time I kinda failed
I had just been degirlin' in Goa
When a few fumbles after getting it together
She’s agate ‘STOP!’ but, y'know, I weren’t that
bothered
Trust me, mi mojo promptly recovered
& I found that the girls were all digging mi chat
I mean… A poet from Burnley in a right dapper
hat!
So... deep down I know some were better in
bed,
But I’ve loved every minute, girls, pathways we
tread
All glittering gold thro your slipped off bikinis
To trust’s lamburghinis, up lust’s kundalinis
We surf'd the exotic… frantic… tantric… calm
All aboard mine art’s duties, thy beauties to
charm.
THE INCREDIBLE INDIA CODE
We both disliked rude rickshwalas, shepu bhaji in
any form, group photographs at weddings, lizards,
tea that has gone cold
Sachin Kundalkar
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
Book your tickets in advance
Expect the unexpected
Never trust a tout
Keep tabs on yer tabs
If they say they’re a masseuse – they’re not
Murder mosquitoes before bed
Never trust a fart
Anything is possible in India
Check your room thoroughly before leaving
10 Picking up stones scares off m7onkeys &
dogs
11 Eat with your non-wiping hand
12 “I was an Indian in another life!”
13 Plenty of change for journeys
14 Ask five different people for directions
GODDESS MINE
India has two million gods, and worships them all. In
religion all other countries are paupers; India is the
only millionaire
Mark Twain
I fixt mine inner eye upon a star,
In darshan disturbing this diety,
Lull'd by the tantric strains of her sitar
The purest drop of goddess flew to me
Upon a swan of hue ambrosial,
Her fertile smile still'd time, her luted look
My hearts consort - sublimely cordial
She read from the Pustaka's sacred book
"Wand'rer, thou art welcom'd to India,
This sari I have sewn know as thy guide,
Where e'er she willows there stay close behind!
She closed the page, sail'd high skies to
Brahma,
Perform'd the blissful duties of a bride,
Rare have I seen such beauties in my mind.
FORT COCHIN
Apart he stalked in joyless reverie,
And from his native land resolved to go,
And visit scorching climes beyond the sea
Lord Byron
Come share a second with serenity
Up in this lake of European rooves,
This crescent lamp'd oer th’Arabian sea
Lulls me thither, I hear the sound of hooves...
At once a sacred chime grows on the breeze,
Some teller of a thousand ancyent tayles,
Some from the world's crop-fellers overseas,
Some cross the Karakoram's lofty trails,
Some were seekers of immortal glory,
Some content to be husbands, to be wives...
Though the vision all clutter'd & hoary,
With me a single memory survives,
Being extras in the global story
We are stars in the movies of our lives.
KARANCI
Scratch a rock
& a legend springs
Arun Kolatkar
I took a breath or two of night time air
My heart not knowing why, my legs not where
The starry skies obscured by gremlin cloud
I headed for the hilltop temple loud
Where rattled such a throng of Saivite
Songs echoing thro Niligrisian night
Seeming another Tuscany to me
For India oft feels like Italy
& all was silver as a Silver Oak
For searing thro the deep & astral smoke
I found there was a full moon pulling clear
Are these the moments poets hold so dear
Thro selene scenes setting dream-trails in store
When ´morrow morns may pass these ways
once more.
INDIAN RAILWAYS
Such heaps of despatch boxes, such mounds of
record boxes,
Such vast fabrics of pigeon holes, such
abandon of red tape
William Howard Russel
I found myself waiting at this train station
Not for a train, it was just to buy a ticket
Not even for that day, but eleven in the future
The next one available from Fort Cochin to Calicut
So I´m waiting & waiting & I´m waiting nit-pick
longer
& the guy behind the desk´s on his third guy in an
hour
& I was fourth, but the seventh guy´s hand starts
waving
His reservation form as the third guy was about to
finish
So I warned fifth, sixth, & seventh they´d be a foolish
to try linecuttin’
after all, Id been walking in the sun all day like a
mad English dog
& my legs felt like lead & I was definitely, definitely,
going next...
So, ten minutes later, my patience almost broken
The third guy finishes, & thrusting my form at the
window
The bugger batters down the shutter for lunch!
KANYAKAMARI
Everybody knows that the great reversed triangle of
land, with its base in the north and its apex in the
south, which is called India, embraces fourteen
hundred thousand square miles
Jules Verne
I stepp'd onto Vivikenanda's rock
There paus'd, of situation took full stock,
Before me, some vast fan, India spread,
Behind, lay endless ocean, grey as lead
Above, & to the side, a statue rose
Some noble poet in his noblest pose
& I gazed I swear he winked at me
Into my mind th'Orphean frequency
Sang, 'Boy, wherever in the world ye be
Remember me!'....
'TisThiruvalluvar!'
Says saddhu, startl'd by me, who had
seen
Or sens'd a dream twyx poets,
inbetween
A butterfly thro' silver sea-spray
flew...
...The boat-bell rang, I sprang to join the
queue
NALATIYAR
The English novel was parochial in the 80s.
Indian writers have given us the color
Martin Amis
Her :
O lord of fertile land & everflowing waterfalls
O lord of cool sunshine warming ocean´s
running waves
O lord of good country with beautiful ebony
mountains
O lord of flowery hills with lush & sparkling
waterfalls
O lord of honey-bearing woods in the good
country
O lord of long seashore with fine, unfailing saltpans
O lord of the hills with lovely sandal groves on
O lord of cool lagoons & bays brimming with
water
O lord of prosperous vineyards & huge gemstudded caverns
Him :
O beautiful lady with breasts like budding
flowers
O lady of beautiful hair with fragrance of musk
O lady of long-eyed spears & bow-like eyebrows
Him & Her
O lord of bewitching victories bring these
beauties to me
EGG CURRY
There is sufficiency in the world for Man’s need,
but not for Man’s greed
Ghandi
To make Curry hot & tasty
Fry your veggies odours free
Then mix some meat in if you like
Fleshy ham to fresh-caught pike
Milk & tomatoes make the sauce
Good curry powder puffs the force
Add other seasonings to taste
Then stew awhile, no need for haste
Pick out an egg or two to boil
Heat-water up by kettle coil
All bubbling in a pan
Now… add that egg or two of course
Ten minutes boil, cold-water cool
Ye’ll crack it... shell it... serve
with sauce!
THIRUVALLUVAR
The outstanding greatness of Tamil Nadu
Was that it gave Valluvar to the world
Shudhannanda Bharati
As I rested on a fine, empty beach, by the Bay of
Bengal
In a soft second of existence I was alerted to a flutter
of birds
A mile or so along the coast I saw a distant figure
approaching.
An old man swathed in white robes, sporting a thick,
black beard,
I expected him to pass, but as he came to within a
few metres
He veer’d slowly towards me, leaving nor footsteps
in the sand,
"What is your profession?” he curtly asked, “I am a
sonneteer, sir!”
His magnificent eyes burrowed into the heartlands of
my soul
“By any chance, are you carrying a silver rose?”
Astonish’d, I show’d him the flower hung around my
neck...
...After humming an Upanishad he said, “I’ve been
expecting you,
As seven words a kural make, seven kural form a
sonnet!”
This was for me high epiphany to the hidden depths
of sonnetry.
DEPARTING FOR ANDAMAN
Everyone has his own idea of India
JM Haynes
Gazing across exotic ocean stream
Shamrock musing drifts to distant Burnley,
Where for as long as breathing there shall be
My family, my friends, my football team –
So far away, for following my dream
I am a stranger in a strange contree,
Though slowly hook'd upon its cup of tea,
Darjeeling serv’d up with a Devon cream.
The sun has fallen & the ship has sail'd,
The last lamps of the mainland shrink & fade,
A momentary notion has prevail'd
As Vagu & Varuna soft notes play’d
Next time by solid ground my feet regaled
Into youth's fleeting heart I shall have stray'd.
AVATARAS
Seeing an elephant sprinkle dust on its own head
Rahim is puzzled. then he concludes that just as
Ahalya was changed back to the human form by a
touch of the dust of Sr Rama's feet, teh elephant too
is probably trying to find the sacred dust which will
give it salvation
Rahim
At the back of the ship, at the height of the trip,
Drawn by the harmonies of Lord Vishnu's call,
I saw cross the waters navel rooted lotus
Absorbing the beauteous bay of Bengal,
Transcending to milk, pearly seaway of silk,
Thou lavender cushion of infinite white,
Surrounding the foetal spirit centripetal
Sucking upon toenails painted starry bright.
"Rider, thou art return’d to India,
Saraswathi, I see, has smil'd on you,
Thy mortal aura bless'd in her prayer,
Thine energies hued in a rainstorm blue,
Come drape thyself in the Himalaya,
For there, thy Silver Roses shall renew."
THE TURNING OF ASHOKA
The year is 261 BC/ Following the bloody battle of
Kalinga at Dhauli,
King Asokha is riding beside the River Nadi
Ashoka
O blessed day! What glory gain'd, the battle still
pounds my senses
& in mine ears still echoes the cries of battle &
death-yells loud
Those leonine roars, those clam’rous shouts, the din
of drums & cymbals
& what sights - great elephants renting each other
with bloody tusks
& great chariots exploding in shorn limbs & wooden
splinters
But what is this? a worn woman weeps by the river
running crimson
My goodly lady why shed thy tears on this auspicious
of days
When I am flush with the victory & feeling very
generous
Whatever on this Earth ye need my attendants shall
see to
Woman
I hear you, Chakravartin, in thine armour as white as
clouds
& yet, ye are a hypocrite for thy palms bestain'd with
blood
& yes... there is one thing I crave upon this Earth
above all others
To feel my husband's loving warmth, but his body as
cold as snows,
Some broken corpse - if ye lack power to make men,
sire, why kill them?
HYBRIDABAD
Imagine everything that is glorious in nature
Combined with all that is beautiful in architecture
& you can faintly picture to yourself what Calcutta is
William Hunter
Give me Saint Andrews with sea-views & putter
Or take me to Ascot to big-shot & flutter
Give me a hot-pot with good bread & butter
Or if not, just give me Calcutta
Give me the mornings stroll ‘long the Maidan
Give me the games grand Garden of Eden
Give me the Hoogley’s green glide Thamesian
Whenever I yearn for my London
For as she was once the pulse of an Empire
& Edinburgh the mind that built the Raj
Then surely this great city was its soul
Where men would recreate their distant shire
Carving an architectural mirage
From native rocks, where hungry coolies crawl.
KATIHAR
Precious is a little place on this earth
Precious is the life that has least worth
Tagore
There is a certain sadness in this land
The handicapp'd are heap’d upon my heart
The twisted feet of those too low to stand
& me, all in their midst, but set apart
& when I wait to catch the midnight train
So many shudras spread about the floor
A spell of blessed respite to obtain
From drudgeries of being born so poor
& like the swine from meal to meal subsists
Therein lies the archaic chaff of wheat
On which this young democracy insists
"Caste is caste & never the twain shall meet!"
& even dreamlands which all equal share
Disturb'd here by the tannoy's constant blare
KANGCHENZONGA
Thou art primal
Thou art pure
Without beginning, without termination
In single form endure forever
Guru Nanak
I came on Pemagangtse in the night
A leopard passing slowly in the snow
& waited til a precious pinch of light
Announced the phoenix day in foetal glow
I gazed across the Kabrus unaware
That to these climes had Calliope come
Slopes gloomy grey, as sunbeams fill the air
They turn the burnish'd burgondy of rum
Savitri's spell impells the Sun to strength
Red turns to orange, orange burns to gold
& as all shadows shorten in their length
What summit sparkles white, where, very cold,
My muse sits, singing, wisest of the nine
"On Nanda Devi waits my sister's sign!"
GOD
The great saints impart sanctity to places of
pilgrimage, render actions righteous & good, & give
spiritual authority to the scriptures
Narada Bhakti Sutras
I march on different minds in different ways
A force beyond all knowledges combined
But let it now be known to each on Earth
I have a single name & that be God
Tho splintered by the tangl'd knot of tongues
For as a man in Orchaa calls me Ram
In Qadian as Allah I am praised
Now let us reconcile these diff'rences
To every race a prophet I have sent
& filled them with the milk of mine intent,
Asource of common good, a common source,
From which the well-fount of my message
springs,
A clear soul-song for all who wish to hear
Through me find Heaven & in Heaven, Love!
TRIVIKRAMA
Fear not tomorrow, the Almighty is already there
Swami Sukhabodhananda
I sup sweet Soma-juice Vishnu to praise
O steed-bourne lord who stands on lofty hills
Let us witness these three Earth-measur'd
steps
Three widely-striding paces thro’ the spheres
& laud him like some wild, steep-scouring beast
For midst those steps all creatures must abide.
Give vigour unto Vishnu, many-hymn'd,
Who sets himself apart & carves three worlds
Three sweet & imperishable places
& holds aloft, alone, all elements
His mansion to attain midst happy gods
Let us up to his highest footstep strive
Where down on humblest oxen in the home
His bull-light showers joyous benefits!
WHILE PLAY’D THE CANNONADE
Whether it be the heat or the curry, or the state of
one’s liver, it seems that the disposition of
Englishmen alters in India, & they become very
argumentative & theoretical
William Howard Russell
General - My how hot a day this is
Reverend - I cannot agree with you sir
There was a lovely breeze this morning
The hour was three I think
& if you ever had visited Stuffcote
You wouldn’t dream of calling this hot
General - Stuffcote! Why, I have been there sir
Was there, in fact, for three years sir
It is one of the coolest stations in India
Reverend - Poppycock - in August - what
nonsense
General - Yes, sir, especially & most
particularly In August
I have felt positively chilly all thro the month
Reverend - Chilly? In stuffcote? In August…
Servant - More champagne, Sahib?
POOJAH
I saw Indian brahmans living upon the earth & yet
not on it, fortified without fortifications, & possessing
nothing yet having the richness of all men
Apollonious of Tyana
Morning devotions as pure as the Chutrak
Who drinks only raindrops, he takes his brass
pot
Strolling turblanless into the peasoup hue
Rinses his mouth in the steaming stream
Pours & rubs libations on crown & chest
Squinting with satisfaction
Squatting in the waters to his very neck
He utters forth his low-noted song of joy
Then returns, full of awe, to the shore
Smears mud across his quivering torso
To kiss the earth repeatedly, invoking RAM
He turns his misty eyes to the heavens
& with the last, long taste of Goomtee spring
Leaves, mud hardening into thick yellow paste
NANDA DEVI
Arise, awake & stop not til the goal is reach’d
Swami Vivekananda
Up to the world's rooftop I slowly rose;
Checking upon the progress of the soul
Appears a mountain prospect a la snows
Of Austria, New Zealand & Nepal.
I left Almora for the Kashyap Hill,
High commune of fairest tranquility,
Fresh dawntint drew me to the lofty chill
Of this monolithic Axis Mundi.
It seems for me the lips of Laksmi smile,
No sweeter place on earth to greet the sun,
Here summon'd by the lyrical lifestyle,
I whisper a gentle dedication;
"Until my feet have circuited the globe
My thought & life with poesy I shall robe."
LEH
The greater part of the road is along the flanks of
the loftiest and most awful mountains and in which
ordinarly there is not found sufficient space for one
man to pass by another
Ippotito Desideri
Yon snowy crowns of the mighty Himalayan
massif
One reaches the veritable rooftop of the world
On arriving in Ladakh’s lovely little capital,
I took a pleasant room with spectacular views
Of the mountain-gods, immensely charm,
On all sides a grey, arid desert which bleeds
Into a great chain of mountains encircling
The wide basin in which sits this wee oasis
Swimming with zen-like calm, from chaos far,
This semi-autonomous ‘Little Tibet,’
Reflects in the permeating faces and food
Through this land, scarcely populated,
Wonderful, austere, & yet each day
Modernity, into its ancient fibres, slowly seeps.
PHONE CALL FROM AGRA
I was staring at the back of this rickshaw
driver's neck
As I dragged my bags thro Agra, the Taj now
just a speck
Of love dust immemorial, my minds eye to
recall
Whene'er long life should ache deep for some
sheer uplift of soul;
In that place grew pure poetry, man-made &
yet divine,
A funerary megalith whose Mughal marble
wine,
Endrenches human spiritus with splendour thro'
its form,
All races & all nations round its majesty must
swarm.
As I depart for Gwalior I think of absent touch,
For she was like a queen to me, I loved her love
so much,
& haunted by her happy smile I've wandered
far, alone,
Til mental peace has found me all my fuck-ups
to atone.
So I shall get my mobile out & make that magic
call Her voice was soft & happy - back in Sally's
love I fall.
RAI PRAVEEN
Beside the bonnie banks of Betwa's stream
A beauty dwelt, beholding her a dream,
Her reputation to great Akbar flew
Whose regal claws she to his throne-room drew
But noble are Bundellas & their queens
& so played out the most wondrous of scenes
As with a poem she made devlish dig
'Hello King! You are King, not dog, nor pig,
& I am nothing but a plate well-used...'
Lord Akbar gasped, & gazed on her confused,
While shell-shock'd audience grew hushly sure
Such grave insult His Highness shan't endure
But no! Life's nobler motions to protect
He sent her home, alive & with respect.
OVERTAKING LANES
Two saddus stood by the side of the road
Staring at a truck that had spill’d it’s load
By that, an old wreck that just would not start
Bypass’d by a man in an ox-drawn cart,
& faster still; first a cycle rickshaw,
A dull green tractor from the days of yore,
Auto-rickshaw belching dirty black smoke,
Bright red scooter missing many-a-spoke,
Some weird lorry’s siren psychedelics,
Bus driven by two mad alcoholics,
These by breezy motorcycle bypass’d
Then last, & an Ambassador of Rajput caste,
O lawless highways brave gangs of robbers
stalk
You know, it’s a nice day, I think I’ll walk.
POVERTY & WEALTH
Two goddesses bickered about beauty
Prepared to start a second Trojan war
Srinava's wisdom thunders crore on crore
My Jyesthadevi, my Laksmidevi
There is a young carpenter of Bundi
Who is so very honest to his core
& soon they both were standing at his door
“Who is the most beautiful, she or me?”
Our humble cobbler thought a mortal while
& says Laksmi most lovely on arriving
Yet Jyestha more gorgeous when she departs
This answer made each goddess equal smile
& he, celestial wrath surviving,
Learns flattery woos e'en immortal hearts
JAIT SAGAR
If India can make a man a man,
More than the veshyalay of Amsterdam,
If thro the chaos he can make a plan,
Respecting Hinduism & Islam,
If he can give the beggar his rupee
& tip the tout that charges o'er the odds,
If he can read his Rajput history
& choose a god but still bless other gods,
If he can sleep upon the railway run,
Find fresh, clean waterfalls amid the dirt,
If he can wonder how the Raj was won,
Then pause upon the horrors & the hurt,
If he can haggle down & know his daal,
Then does he need to see the Taj Mahal?
CREATION
As, thro’ Mount Abu, I moved my scooter
A great prostrate cow seem'd to be dying
Guts on the pavement where she was lying
But no... close by lay her hour-old daughter
I watch'd the wee one make her falt'ring first
Steps in the world, like an ambitious teen,
Thro her mother's dung, slippery & green
Then in the hot noon felt an earthly thirst
Went looking for something, nuzzling half-blind
She suckles on her mother's rough larynx
Who stood up, stands motionless as a sphinx,
& with a lick acknowledges her kind,
Who now creeps forward to the golden teat
& clamps down hard as angels swoop'd the
street
OMKERASHWAR
One morning in the bustling JP Choke
That serves Omkerashwar's most sacred space
Of rivers, lingams, islanders & Ram,
I heard a solid thud & turn'd to see
Between the unused spearheads of their horns
Two proud, white street goats crack each
other's skulls
Then rear again as if them did salute
Each other's prowess in the sports of war.
A gather'd crowd stood wincing at each blow
Until the loser stagger'd from the bout
To ten yards later find some unshell'd peas
These I stroll'd past, quite bridgewards, to the
isle
Where Kaveri & old Namarda meet,
& Jyortirlinga lifts the married mind.
INDIA
Nation of nations, hot & happy land!
With spicy dishes morsell'd by the hand,
Being a valourous & graceful race,
Thy universal mullet firm in place,
Despite taking three men to stamp a form
& creative corruption Laksmi's norm,
A fanatacism for the rupee
Cements this secular society
Of power-cuts & cripples & bazaars
Neath a pristine panapoly of stars,
Of swastikas & cricket in the streets,
Bounteous crops & oversugar'd sweets,
Ashrams soothing riot-torn religion
Where always blaze the rays of Asia's sun.
DEPARTING INDIA
A decade pass’d since that piazza
Where first I flirted with the myrtle muse,
Now knoweth I a new peninsula
Whose galaxy of monuments enthuse
The spiritus, where all Earthly aspects
Have form'd a microcosm of the sphere,
A foundation for when I travel next,
Days of endeavour drawing ever near.
I spend a moment, musing on the wing,
As oer the sea of Araby we sail'd;
Around the Raj was flung a faerie ring
& all it's channel'd poesis regaled,
I have succeeded in my soldiering
Where Ghengiz Khan & Alexander fail'd.
HOMECOMING
At last my gaze is cast oer English skies,
The thrills of one’s homecoming multiply,
Bursting through cloud we claim a poet's
prize;
Big Ben...Tower Bridge... & the London Eye.
& I am back, back from my epic tour,
Ten rupees all that furnishes my purse,
Scraggly & tann'd I call upon the door
Of compassion & an NHS nurse.
"Well I got shot, I gush´d out dysentry,
Wee mozzy bites became massive bags of
puss,
Salmonella, concussion, entwisted knee,
Neuropraxia... Love, just look at us!"
"It's lucky you survived"... I smil’d a smile,
"Dying," said I, "It's never been my
style."
KARMA SUTRA
The city streets were alive with neon,
I knock'd... Rosie answer'd there delighted,
My favourite more-than-friend down London,
Her stairs were excitedly alighted.
I cook'd up a couple of samosas,
Chappathis, biriyani & paneer,
Making out to the Stars & the Roses
Over charas & charlie & cold beer.
I show'd her a book bought in Madurai,
The Karma Sutra's esoteric scene,
"So babe, do you wanna give it a try?"
We did & at a later hour serene
My lover sleeping on my naked chest
I felt that special bliss when East meets West.
TRANSLATING NALATIYAR
Pendle obscured by fog
Bulging in my pocket
Tamil literature’s priceless Koh-i-noor
Bodyclock revolving Bombay time
Tranquil parkland hiking
Toes & fingers numbing
Tamil texts in Towneley
Ancient Jain gnosis
Thirukural’s esteem’d sacred sister
Baynan & Margosa
Vital lamps lighting all mortality
Converting quatrains into Kural
Many miles from Madurai
O remarkable poetical sensations!
BUSSINNIT
Me
How much to Rawtenstall
One-twenty – thanks a lot
Driver (x43)
Oi this is Manchester
You paid to Rawtenstall
Driver (national express)
Welcome to Tebay services
We leave at three
If ya late ya left behind
Me
How much to Edinburgh mate?
Five-seventy – daylight robbery
Driver (900)
Princes Street is closed
It’s the tramworks y’see
Me
Single to East Linton
Three pound bloody twenty
Do you accept rupees?
NOW THAT I AM THIRTY-ONE
Upon an evening’s ride I rode beside the Forth’s firth
& glanced back on a time-lapse t'when I last made v
Since then I’ve loved an angel & I've loved her many
But left her… for the bard inside still yearn’d to join t
I have blended song & dialogue across eclectic stage
& thrilled my friends with travelogue-emboss’d elect
Upon the way I transcreated Tamil Nad’s first saint
& learn’d enough of woman’s ways to woo without c
I have composed in Italian round Egadian seas
Broke bread with smart, young Indians, beers by Kad
I have founded several festivals, for Bacchus, with m
& swapped my native terrace for a palace in the Shir
Where, yes, I am still learning how a poet must get o
For the world just keeps on turning now that I am thi
MY PENELOPE
Every poet needs a pretty princess,
Of them, a haelan lassie best presume,
She sprinkles perfumed petals of noblesse
Whene'er she deigns to dignify a room!
As now I make that tender step in time
Back to the hearth of all my happiness
She stands, the essence of this will to rhyme
Aloof, alone, in all her loveliness...
'My love,' I said, 'Back then I buck'd so blind,
But now I see you, Sally, soft & pure,
You are the motion that must move my mind,
For my heart's sickness are the only cure!"
Outside our love's bulb burst through frozen
earth,
Within, through Sally's kiss, blissful rebirth!
LOVE-FALL
To morning's nest from nightlife's restless bed
At last, my soul with its ain soul-mate led,
I'd travell'd many shores & grown more wise
& with the humblest voice apologize...
This is the proper way men woo their wives,
Thro' faith & understanding love survives,
As I strok'd Sally's silky snow-white skin,
I sens'd, I swear, Olympia within...
Onto the airy, pinnacle of pride
I stepp'd, there Sally ask'd to be my bride
She, with a pearl-gleam’d girlie smile sigh’d yes
& felt I then England's Odysseus!
When, with this won proposal, I propose
To press these petals of a Silver Rose!
The
LANGUAGE
of
FLOWERS
THE CATS OF CALCATA
Being an account of two cats of Calcata who
communicate upon a romantic level by using the
secret Language of the Flowers. Upon falling in love
as kittens, then getting married, their tranquility is
disturbed by the arrival of a young, handsome tom
from the nearby town of Falaria. The Wife becomes
completely enamored of him, begins an affair &
seeks a divorce. Her husband challengers the tom to
a duel, but is left second bested & bleeding. His wife
sees this & realizes her true love for her husband but it is too late, for in a fit of jealousy the husband
murders her. He instantly shows the greatest
remorse, burying his wife at the spot where she
died…
Lazing through days of Italy,
O life of lovely hours!
The soft wine & festivity,
The sunshine & tranquility,
Where Street Cats speak, eloquently,
The Language of the Flowers.
There is a place where you must go
To hear the street-cat patter,
Where sweet Rondini swoop & show,
The river glistens far below
A maze of streets, then you will know
The magic of Calcata.
Upon a soft & starry night
Two kittens kiss’d all hazy
& pluck’d two Lilacs flushing bright,
Purple for her, for him pure White,
Love blossoming from first sweet sight
Fresh as a Mountain Daisy.
Young lovers grew, through every scene
The cute Red Catchfly carried Where Spring Crocuses grow serene
& Orange Blossoms speckle green,
Amidst the gentle Celandine
They were forever married!
Their home a mountain theatre
Sunshine rising to mild purrs Each day they found Veronica,
Blue Violets & Ambrosia
For to bind them all together
On a bed of felted Furze.
Then from Falaria there came
The cat with eyes a-dapple,
& in her heart the strangest flame
Burning so brightly, to her shame,
With Amethyst he won her name
& left for her an Apple.
They dallied by the old river
Where grow the Four-Leaf Clovers,
He plucked the wylde Justicia
& with Peach Blossom gave to her,
Beside brightest Honey Flower
Became they tender lovers.
The husband woke that cloudy night,
Went out all wrack’d with worry,
Grew frantic thro the gloomy light
Til shone the moon full beaming bright,
No man should suffer such a sight
Underneath the Judas Tree.
Biting a fig between his teeth,
Clutching a Red Carnation,
He gave to her the Cedar Leaf,
But she, to his own disbelief,
Wrapt Butterfly Weeds in a wreath
& bid for separation.
The husband’s wounded heart wants war,
Throws down the cruel Wylde Tansy The piazza, as was the law,
Saw scratch & screech & bite & claw,
As lost he left, limping by paw,
From heaven fell a Pansy.
To see her first love lose the fray,
By an arrow her heart shot!
She found a fresh straw from the hay,
A dozen Red Tulips at play,
Wove them into a lush bouquet
With a fresh Forget-Me-Not.
Pressing Basil into a wound,
Chewing fresh Begonia,
He stood up with a hissing sound,
Sore paws the pretty rooftops pound,
Upon a wall his sweetheart found
& push’d her to the murder!
Distraught he dash’d to where she fell
& wept for the tragedy,
Kiss’d & buried her spirit’s shell,
Cloaked her with Cudweed, as tears swell
He placed a little Asphodel
‘Neath the sea-green Locust Tree.
So if you ever take the care
To visit fair Calcata
Go to the walls the street cats share
& pause a while to look down there
Where you should see, come really stare,
The grave Red Roses flatter.
THE FALCON PRINCESS
Being an account of a contest, wherin the princes of
five contrees attempt to win the affections of the
princees of the king of Sicily's falcons. The
tournament is held upon Monte Falcano that towers
ovet the island of Marretimo & one-by-one they are
whittled down, first thro their personality, then
speed, then abilty to hunt game. Finally, the princes
of Portugal & Cyprus duel, wherein the Portuguese
falcon is triumphant, wins the princess & plants his
national flower on the island for posterity.
There is an island you should know
Of sun & sea & showers
Call'd marvellous Marettimo
Where Homer mused so long ago
& all god's creatures grew to know
The Language of the Flowers
Upon this island lives a king,
Lord of Sicily's Falcons,
The Guelder Roses grow each spring
About his Ash Tree, in a ring,
But still the Eagles fear his wing
From Scotland to the Balkans.
More beautiful than true Orchis
Grew his beloved daughter;
When she had pluck'd
He sent forth mountain messengers
To the royal Falcon princes
Inviting them to court her.
A handsome prince flew to propose
Bearing tri-petal'd
Then came on others, one with Rose,
One clutch'd Lavender in his claws,
One brought Bear's Breech in spiky pose,
The last: Egyptian Lotus!
Each kiss'd the princess with soft peck
& shower'd admiration;
One gave her Mint, one gave Angrec,
One Cherry Blossom, one Garlic,
But to the one with Hollyshock
She toss'd a Striped Carnation.
The king announced a tournament
Amid the mountain bowers;
The goats broke up their government
Assinos braved the steep ascent
While local seagulls squawk'd consent
& scatter'd Zephyr Flowers.
The crowds had gather'd on a slope,
Oer the sea that swam to space,
The Princes hover'd at the rope
The King took out a telescope
Salvaged from some ship shorn of hope
Then settled to watch the race
Four Falcons flew down lightning fast
From clouds to the low sea-mist,
Touching the lone fuggazi mast
Then Imperial Lily pass'd,
The princess cheer'd, gave to the last
The colourful Amethyst.
Three Princes hunted thro the day,
Down they swoop'd on ev'ry kill,
Each filling up a silver tray,
Then when the sun shed last red ray
The princess on the least did spray
The blossom of Sweet Basil.
The King announced twas time to dine,
The day's hunt put in a pile,
Wash'd down with wash'd up Tuscan wine,
The finalists both found a sign,
One pluck'd the Purple Columbine
& his rival, Cammomile.
Two Falcons face the final fray
From Portugal & Cyprus;
The evening gloom consumes the day
Up to the moon assinos bray,
The Princess keeps the cold at bay
Wrapp'd with warm Indian Cress.
Thro’ Belladonna-scented sky
Princes fought with wing & peck,
Their talons lock, they fall from high,
One hits the water with shock'd cry,
Returns, receiving, with a sigh,
The Bay Wreath around his neck.
The Prince of Portugal had won
His princess's Carnation,
As is the law of high falcon
The King embraced his future son
Whose flower planted with talon
To join the vegetation.
So if you ever take the time
To view Monte Falcano,
& venture on its verdant climb,
'Tween sea & Sicily sublime,
More fragrant than a poet's rhyme
Does the lush Lavender grow.
THE CASTLE OF TRANQUEBAR
Being an account of a the great Tsu-na-mi that shook
the south-eastern portions of the globe at the start
of the twenty-first century. The scene is the old
Danish colony of Tranquebar, in the land of the
Indian Tamils, in which place a castle is used as
protection against those infernal waves. The leading
protaganist of the tale is a brightly intelligent parrot
who leads the animals of the locality to safety.
If you should ever deck a mast
& tack for the eastern star
There is a place to take repast
Besides the ocean’s vista vast
Stood tough enough for any blast
The castle of Tranquebar
Our story starts not long ago
The Ocean growning angry
& conjuring a global show
She struck the land a mortal blow
Being the wave we all now know
O terrible Tsu-Na-Mi
That mighty rush, ten meters tall,
Struck in the early morning
The lush Thai beaches first to fall
Where whales watch’d on with dire apall
& join’d their chorus in a call
To give the world their warning
The music of that newsy throng
More beautiful than Handel
For many leagues it flew along
Few understood their ancient tongue
But one seabird had heard their song
Sung by the Coromandel
She was a Parrot, blue & green
There was no Parrot smarter
A hundred summers had she seen
& knew this day could only mean
Waves furious, for she had been
A witness at Sumatra
She knew of misty tidal wave
& old Poseidon’s powers
So flew to land so she could save
Her fellow creatures from the grave
Her only tool that voice God gave
The Language of the Flowers
The Parrot pluck’d from out the ground
Lush Monkshood & Bay Roses
As Oleander then was found
He spread its petals wide around
As closer drew the awful sound
Of thunder as it closes
All in a jungle’s clattering
The Animals did scatter
The Monkey’s gan their chattering
Thepilets pitter-pattering
As sun-idylls were shattering
Whatever was the matter?
From glades green unto village street
Th’unpanicking parrot flew
Cool-headed, truly, in the heat
Trailing Forsythia from feet
He made his warning-call complete
With feather-white Feverfew
As Animals form Noahan crowd
The Elephants huff’d & puff’d
The Cattle battl’d on unbow’d
With cats & dogs & donkeys loud
But Peacocks acted very proud
Bedding down in Candytuft
The Parrot reach’d that grand fortress
Beside Thangarambadi
All pass’d beneath the portcullis
Into the courtyard’s thick-sloped bliss
& wonder’d what the trouble is
Affecting everybody
A blast! An earthquake’s aftershock
Shorewards the Tsunami rips
Lifting tough ships onto the rocks
Freezing forever human clocks
Murdering through the proud peacocks
Hid in the Yellow Tulips
As round the walls an ocean flows
All the Beasts dared not to breathe
As waters fall where waters rose
Aft’ rounds of spontaneous applause
Daffodils, Eidelweiss & Furze
Woven neatly to a wreath
Those flowers tied to Parrot’s wing
All their gratitude flew far
If life to Tamil coasts ye bring
Listen to how the Monkeys sing
Of sweet deliverance, praising
The Castle of Tranquebar
THE LOST KITTEN
Being an account of the birth of a kitten in Calcata &
her accidental journey to the city of Rome,
whereupon she is discovered by a local street cat
who decides to help her return home. After plucking
flowers from a local park in order to communicate
they visit the city’s chief cat, the emperor, at his
seat on the collosseum, who gives them a meeting
with a wise old feline at Forte Prenistina. The old
ginger worked out the locality of the kitten by her
odour, that is the land of hazelnuts, upon which the
street cat carries the kitten through many an
adventure to the town of Falaria, where they part.
The kitten then makes her own way to a joyous reunion with her parents in Calcata.
Once more, my friends, follow our rhyme
To the green hills north of Rome
For Calcata, set so sublime
Midst nature & her ancyent chime,
Where people live life’s playful time
& the Street Cats share their home
There was a Cat with snow white fur
Her ears all pink & fluffy
Wooing the tom which fell for her
Whose lion mane & Roman burr
Arose passions & thoughts that stir They had a little baby
She grew into a lovely one
Calm as a river cruising
They showed her off to everyone
Around her neck wrapped pink ribbon
Upon ev’ry bonnie action
They call'd her so amusing
To Calcata there came a clown
The sun was up & shining
Our little Kitten yawn’d a frown
& found a spot to snuggle down…
The truck set off & all the town
Could hear her mother whining
She woke up to the roar of cars,
A jolt & she went flying
Into a land of neon bars
The city lights shining like stars
A scruffy Tomcat with rough scars
Attends her timid crying
He finds her lying in the dark
Soft purring as she cowers
The Tom becomes her patriarch
& leads her to a handsome park
Where all beasts speak, from bleat to bark
The Language of the Flowers
The Kitten mewed so helplessly
Pawing an Ipomaca
With Windflower Anemone
She bites a sprig of Bryony,
The Tom banished her misery
With leaf-knoted Fresia
As oasis they found so calm
The day was slowly dawning
In pretty ruins free from harm
Grew Cobea & Gentle Balm
They found a shade beneath a palm
& dozed right through the morning
Hind legs rose with the mid-day heat
& plunged into the city
From street to roof, from roof to street
A grey, fat, one-eyed cat to meet
Sat in his Coliseum seat Gave thought & then pawed a Pea
Emperor hissed & they were gone
To Forte Prenistina
By Milkwort & Meadow Saffron
Wise Ginger sniffed the silk ribbon
Gave them a Hazelnut & one
Bay Rose to warn for danger
The Tom leapt on a clanking train
Clutching the Kitten tightly
To thunder through the fair champaign
Until the tall, town-topped mountain
& hit the road, where once again
The starlight shone so brightly
They dally thro a fragrant night,
Perfumed with Convolvulus,
A restaurant slides into sight
Aroma whets the appetite
They search the bins, a meaty bite
Tasting of Saffron Crocus
Morning covers Falaria
The weather light & lazy By Hazelnut & gatherer
He purr’d goodbye & gave to her
The Garlic plant in full flower
& Michaelmas the Daisy
Sad Cat mourns by the old river
Beneath a weeping Willow
Her lover leaps from Calcata
Clutching their beautiful daughter
Happiness shines from a mother
Whose heart her Kitten’s pillow!
THE ASIAN WREATH
Being an account of the death of the King of the Falcons,
consumed with grief upon hearing of the Asian Tsunami. His heir,
the Falcon Prince, gathers a number of flowers & sets off for
Asia, where in exchange for his own flowers he obtains the
national flowers of several countries. He then returns to Sicily &
wraps the dead king in the wreath, before dropping the body into
the flames of Mount Aetna.
There is a tayle that I must tell
Tho men be disbelieving
Of when the King of Falcons fell
Into the flamey fields of hell
& in that moment broke a spell
Of misery & grieving
My tayle begins beneath the sea
Where angry grew Poseidon
For poisonous humanity
Pollutes his kingdom carelessly
& so he sent the Tsu-Na-Mi
Cantering Across ocean
The news brought to Marettimo
& a king sick with disease,
At such sad tidings wept him so
The news was such a mortal blow
Once mighty breath began to slow
Then gave out a dying wheeze.
As is the way in ancyent laws
The crown prince of the Falcons
Took up six flowers in his claws
Transports them to the tragic cause
Of all his weepings & his woes
Flew far beyond the Balkans
He drove above the dusty lands
Where God’s flowers rarely grow,
Ranging beyond those desert sands
That change to Ocean’s rippling bands,
Saw a cluster of small islands
In the waters far below.
Mid Maldive pearls where palm trees grew
To the monkey’s chattering
Dropt was the beautiful Aloe
Of yellow hue & herbal dew,
In recompense the Falcon drew
A Rose to tie cross his wing
Sri Lanka loom’d, our Falcon fell
For the mountain-scented tea
Where lions charm’d him with a spell
Of sunny-centred Nil Manel
He swapp’d one for an Asphodel
Afore soaring ocean free.
He flew the length of India
Where the weird wild banyon grows
There met the Peacock Emperor
Where, after tea, took together,
Our Falcon pluck’d a tail-feather
& won him a Light-Pink Rose.
To Bangladesh he next did come
& the Gangeatic mouth
Near Tygers hiding hunter’s drum
White Water Lilies, quite a sum,
The Falcon dropp’d Helenium
Pluck’d Sepal & reer’d on south.
He came to Thailand’s golden sand
Where the Rachapruek grows
Whose pendulous racemes act grand
For on them Elephants won’t stand
But brave are Falcons &, as plann’d,
Barter’d one for a Black Rose.
He flew at last to Borneo
With a Poppy in his claws
Where Moth Orchids quite pinkly grow
Guarded by Dragons Komodo
But opiates all Beasts do slow
Soon the jungle shook with snores
The Prince he pluck’d an Orchid free
His wreath was wound completed,
So on he flew high westerly
Across the sea to Sicily
Where on an ancient hestnut tree
A thousand falcons seated.
They flew in funerary lines
Up to Aetna’s steaming rim
At sunset when the psyche shines
The king dropt in these molten mines
Wrapt in a wreath, Prince screech’d oer pines
Til that sad, sore day grew dim.
So, if you visit Sicily,
See where Mount Aetna towers
Think of great Asia’s Tsu-Na-Mi
& how her emblems came to be
Bound in a wreath of poignancy
For Falcons speak with Flowers.
Flower Meanings
Acorn - immortality
Acynthus - artistic
Aloe - grief
Ambrosia - love returned
Amethyst - admiration
Angelica - inspiration
Angrec - finer arts
Apple - temptation
Ash Tree - grandeur
Asphodel - my regrets follow you to the grave
Basil - hatred
Bay Rose - beware
Bay Wreath - record of merit
Begonia - dark thoughts
Belladonna - silence
Black Bryony - be my support
Bluebell - humility
Broken Straw - a broken contract
Burnet - merry heart
Butterfly Weeds - let me go
Cammomile - energy in adversity
Carnation, red - alas for my poor heart
Candytuft - indifference
Carnation, striped - refusal
Cedar Leaf - I live for thee
Celandine - joys to come
Centauria - felicity
Cherry Blossom - good education
Clematis - mental beauty
Cobea - gossip
Convolvulus - a bond
Cornflower - refinement
Cornpoppy - consolation
Crocus, saffron - mirth
Crocus, spring -youthful gladness
Cudwed - never ceasing remembrance
Daisy, marguerite - a token
Daisy, mountain - innocence
Daisy, wylde - I share your feelings
Eglantine - poetry
Eidelweiss - noble courage
Feverfew – protection
Fig - argument
Four Leaf Clover - be mine
Forget-Me-Not - true love
Forsythia - anticipation
Fresia - trust
Furze - enduring affection
Garlic - strength
Gentle balm - pleasantry
Guelder Rose - old age
Helenium - tears
Hollyshock - ambition
Honey Flower - love sweet & secret
Imperial Lily - majesty
Indian Cress - warlike trophy
Ipomaca - I attach myself to you
Iris - eloquence
Judas Tree - betrayal
Justicia - perfection of female beauty
Laurel - ambition
Lilac, white - youthful innocence
Lily-of-the Valley - return of happiness
Linnea - I wish we were together
Locust Tree - affection beyond the grave
Magnolia - love of nature
Meadow Saffron - grown old
Monkshood – Beware a deadly foe is near
Michaelmas Daisy – farewell
Milkwort – hermitage
Mint - virtue
Myrtle – discipline
Oleander – Take caution
Orange Blossoms - bridal festivities
Orchis - a belle
Pansy - a thought
Pea - an appointed meeting
Peach Blossom - I am your captive
Poppy - eternal sleep
Purple Columbine - resolve to win
Purple Lilac - first emotions of love
Red Catchfly - youthful love
Rose, black - death
Rose, blue - mystery
Rose, light-pink - sympathy
Rose, red - love
Rose, silver - sonnetry
Rue - disdain
Stephanotis - desire to travel
Sweet Basil - good wishes
Syringa - memory
Thistle - austerity
Thyme - activity
Tulip, red - declaration of love
Tulip, variegated - beautiful eyes
Tulip, yellow - hopelessness
Veronica - fidelity
Violets, blue - faithfulness
Weeping Willow - grief
Windflower Anemone - foresaken
Wylde Tansy - I declare war against you
Zephyr Flowers - expectation
National Flowers
Bangladesh - White Water Lily
Carnation - Sicily
Cyprus - Rose
Denmark - Marguerite Daisy
Egypt - Egyptian Lotus
England - Rose
Estonia - Cornflower
Finland - Lily-of-the-Valley
France - Iris
Germany - Centauria
Greece - Bear's Breech
Holland - Tulip
India - Banyan Tree
Indonesia - Pink Moth Orchid
Italy - Poppy
Latvia - Wilde daisy
Lithania - Rue
Maldives - Rose
Norway - Purple Heather
Poland - Cornpoppy
Portugal - Lavender
Russia - Cammomile
Scotland - Thistle
Sri Lanka - Nil Manel
Sweden - Linnea
Thailand - Rachapruek