The world in a book
For my son
To show him the places
Across the seas
That he dreams of.
The colours,
The creatures,
The cultures and the clashes.
The world in a book in his hands
As one day
The world will be in his hands.
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Green fingers
Rip open the rusty shell
Slow tendrils with irresistible grasp.
Dealt with by a blade or a chemical wash
They will be back.
In time victory will be theirs.
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Deep bright purple star.
Piercing from the depths of roiling blue gas clouds
And a million billion stars
Outshining Venus and Mars
Swathes like silver paths
Some gathered in spiral wheels
And between them in the sparse dark spaces
Ships blink and travel on by.
A memory from the deepest well of childhood.
A memory that could not have been.
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Shining argent in sunlight or silver sheen in the rain
Letter, rings, lions.
Phoenix or tiny names
Even flying angels and leaping fluid cats.
Bright, alluring but for many
The last thing they will see.
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I am almost there.
At the point of completion
Forever it seems.
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Motes of dust
So we have been described
Floating in the vastness of time and space
Small, inconsequential.
Dust motes made of dust from ancient dead stars.
Yet.
So far.
Amongst all we see,
the starfields of diamond dust,
the ancient piercing light,
the glowing, magical, wispy nebulae,
the rainbow rings of Saturn,
the storms of Jupiter,
the blinding light of supernova,
the singular dark of black hole,
world after world
galaxy after galaxy.
Nowhere have we found
yet
Anything that compares
to the complexity, the wonder, the intricacy,
the magic
of
the thoughts of you and I
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Slowly shifting canopy
Layer on layer soft light green
Waving like courtesan fans.
Sun winking through.
Seedlings drifting down sunbeams
Dappled brown leafy ground.
Scent of earth.
Rough feel of bark.
Through this I run!
And the forest’s essence
enters my senses
vitalises my blood!
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Birds do it. Bees do it
Even the goddamn fleas do it
It’s in the genes to survive
It’s not enough. Not for us
We have more, in our double helix
Than the ability to thrive
Make it our duty
Transcend circumstance!
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OK. So this is a quick attempt at concrete poetry – i.e. the shape is important. Seeing as WordPress does all kinds of things with formatting and there is an effect in the original – I am posting it as a picture.
The words are below for search reasons
Slice of Life
By Scott Bailey © 2013
Wake up. Can’t see. Sleepy eyes. Breakfast with my wife and son.
Driving. Dropping off family. Driving to factory. Roadworks, roadworks, roadworks
fixing a computer, picking up stock, driving, roadworks, driving and more driving.
Work. Unloading. Testing stock, adding stock. Mortgage questions paperwork.
Adoption paperwork missing! New firmware! Flawed. New firmware again.
Testing testing testing. Decoding and more testing. Problems headache, stress.
Driving home, roadworks, idiots, danger. Dinner and playtime, fighting with son over bedtime, housework, paperwork.
Poetry. Facebook. Paperwork, Bed time. Togetherness and rest.
Internet is down. Have spent last three hours trying to sort it. Brain is frazzled. Eyes are barely functional. So, writing this on my phone. It’s one of my old ones.
A quavering wave
of light in the summer clouds
as the sun goes down.
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Screams, shouts, whispers, words
Uttered, none heeded at all.
Lost like leaves that fall.
Noble, graceful, caged
So like us yet so far apart
Our bars are our own.
As it’s Rachel’s Birthday today – and I am spending what little time we manage to get after battling with an unruly four-year old this evening with her, this is another oldie.
What lies within that deep dark world?
That immensity of green threat
Where lies the leviathan of doom
In that swelling encompassing brine
Where plankton swirl through tentacles
That writhe and sway and curl and wave
And small fish dart discreet?
The leviathan’s milky domain!
Filled with cries of beasts the creature eats
Where crescendos rise and pull the heart with sighs.
The leviathan shifts with a thrashing fit
A rumble excites the waves.
And gulls drop and chop their prey and hop
from surf to spray to cloud to rock.
The whole sea moves with a great heart’s beat
Where will its great thoughts lead?
Will it be content to nibble and gnaw
Or rise with a tumultuous roar?
A great green wall with weight of stone
While here, nearby, and all alone
I
Stand
On the sand
Unsure
Our heart leads onwards to our dreams
Our mind towards our goals
While we wend the road between
That cuts our very soles.
Today we thanked the man
Who tightened up the chains
That ties us to our solid home
For someone else’s gains
If only our hearts and minds agreed
The road could be wide and straight
Let’s hope we find the map we need
Before it is too late
A very old one as we have a ton of work to do tonight. I have done some work on it though. I’ll try and do a longer one soon to make up for these odd “cheats”
Always descending, never ascending.
Moving downwards, moving down.
I can’t get used to this feeling
Moving downwards, moving down.
Is it really like this? What are we doing?
Do we really want this?
Is this the thing to be?
The chains that pull the valves and the levers,
That drive the steam through pipes of dreams.
Dream worlds falling, morning calling,
Pull the chains on, shoulder the yoke.
Down to business. Down to labour.
Moving downwards, moving down.
I don’t like this, what am I doing?
I don’t really want this, what is to be?
Enter the shaft that takes us downwards.
The light is dimming as our dreams descend.
Long shadows
Cast their thoughts behind us
Dim our once bright footsteps
An unclean window screen
But flashes from sudden mirrors
Slash though the shadows forms
Glimpses of dreams that past us
Keeping them alive
Though shadows keep on growing
We head towards the sun
In shade our dreams may swim
But they will follow until we’re done
Silence is Golden
Because it’s so very rare
Grab it while you can
Balloons rising high
Bear kisses into the sky
Up to the lost ones
Just got in today! With another new form A Minute Poem – or in this case a last-minute poem.
Bright flakes of light in dappled leaves
that float on down
where saplings grow
and settle low
And earthy scents rise in the air
As underfoot
leaves crunch and fold
red-brown and gold
The rusty fence that holds it in
it holds us too
back from that time
when we roamed free
Stars
Magic
Fathers dance
Under dark trees
Dream
A beautiful poem from a close friend who shares our pain and tears
For Lucas and Sunshine
And the army of others
You were and still are loved
Lucas
My heart breaks
For your Mummy
And your Daddy
And that you could not stay
Sunshine
My heart breaks
For us
And that you could not stay
And my heart sings
To know you have
A Bailey to befriend
Someone
To do daft things with
To clutch a wooden sword
And call out “hey! en garde!”
To share great flights of fancy
And float them down to earth
So
At least
I can dream
That you are neither
Lost in darkness
Nor struggling alone
Now inspired by the site I discovered yesterday going to try some different forms. This is a Katauta.
Silky dress caress
Swishing – lighting my desire
For your loving touch
Today I was made aware of the poetic form of the Senryu and what distinguishes it from a Haiku. I was not aware of this and so my past attempts were probably hybrids in many cases.
If you are interested in the difference there is a good page here explaining it.
I was made aware of it by these posts.
and
Over at the blog of Bastet and Sekhmet
So here is my first attempt – which is yesterday’s poem distilled into this form.
Fleeing from killers
The child runs desperately
To fill out a form.
Rapists come and go
like bills
grit your teeth
bear it
pay
Carry a dagger
close
no guarantee
a talisman
a cross
Hide in the woods
crunching leaves
above
beneath them
a thousand bones
Click, click
Bang, bang
You make it a film!
a song.
a hero’s theme
Click, click
Bang, bang
My mother didn’t pay
didn’t bear her cross
didn’t carry her cross
now lays beneath hers
My best suit
stained by the passing
the violent end
of my daughter
in my arms
Now you tell me
in your yellow coat
shining stripe
proud nation
Go back whence you came!
If life were light
shone through a prism
We would see the parts of our lives
illuminated on the wall
From the red of our passions
to the blue of our melancholy
And all the shades in between
The wonderful rainbow of life
Coloured bricks
Red, blue, yellow, white
and many more.
Many shapes
Many sizes
No limits
Many surprises.
Build a fire engine,
A house, a school,
A lake, a park, a city, a town.
A space station and spaceships and an alien host.
A castle,a bridge a knight and a ghost!
All this and more build it all
And never ever build up your wall.
Wherever words roam
Over fantastical lands
The heart rests at home.
Sometimes the things we are due
do not arrive
Sometimes that precious parcel
is lost
Sometimes the blows
are more than we think
we can survive
But we do
It is the ancient sadness
of humanity
Happiness has such
frailty
The bankers, the police and politicians
laugh at us in their vaults of gold.
Shock and anger and bile!
Such arrogance we behold.
Headlines! Headlines! Headlines!
We MUST have an inquiry!
Heads must rolls, we must have scalps!
Weeks and weeks of fury.
We will not suffer the injustice any longer!
Oh! There’s a royal baby due.
Wait! What? Conkers have been banned!
It’s health and safety gone mad!
What can you do with a shrug?
A sad shadow falls
Casting gloom over our dreams:
Sparks dispel the dark!
Today’s tragedy
Is the damn acceptance of
Bloody league tables!
Tight when I shouldn’t be.
Wound up in the calm
of home and tranquility
Lacking a balm
Lacking release
of the spring in my neck
the wires in my heart
keeping in check
Blessing abound
around me and yet
contentment’s elusive
crushed by the debt
Of responsible lives
led slowly and sure
This then the malady.
Where then the cure?
Old light from the past
Is still illumination
Wisdom echoes far
Why aren’t we railing?
Why aren’t we mad?
Why do we sit in silence?
In apathy so sad.
Is the sickle blunted?
The hammer dropped and cracked?
Has the guillotine lost its edge?
Has liberty backtracked?
The peasants have moved on
From field to factory to desk.
Is it beautiful progress
Or captivity grotesque
So day after day
after day after day.
We struggle and toil
No time to play.
We hand over our freedom
We hand over our cash.
While the fat cats sleep
on their growing stash.
Where is the spirit of liberty?
The hero in the square?
The lone horse trodden woman.
Defanged are those who care.
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Silk sliding
Fingertips brushing
Lightly
Warm breath
Close
Tingling
Lips shining
Eyes widening
Hush
Moist close
Pulsing closer
Moving
They didn’t know.
Or didn’t care.
That corporate giants
Weren’t paying their share.
If they didn’t know.
Incompetence screams.
If they didn’t care
Corruption streams.
Next month. Something else.
To make us all forget.
How many times do we take this?
Is their more give in us yet?
Today’s poem of the day is another old one I have reworked. I chose this as I had read one on a blog I follow that evoked memories of this to me. (That one is here http://reowr.wordpress.com/2013/06/18/when-galaxies-cry/ ) There also seem to be a few more with similar theme and imagery on today. The other reason is that I wanted to post something a bit more upbeat and positive than I had been putting up lately.
If I
Cease to exist
Will my
Precious dreams chase after my soul?
If I
breathe my last breath
Will my
Endless hopes continue to roll?
If I
Fly up from the earth
And
Spiral up to the bright dancing stars
Will I
Find my way back
Or
Make my home where galaxies are?
Hard to exist
Back to back to the hammer of flesh.
Gasping for breath
Tried escape from this strangling mesh.
Tied hard to the earth
Brought to ground by invisible hands.
If I
Find my way back
Will I
Find my house fallen in sands?
Shout to exist
Drink the sun and swallow the air!
Savour the breath
Turn the corner and take up the dare!
Stand firm on the earth
And
Walk the roads under the stars.
We’ll find our way back
While our dreams fly where galaxies are.
Broken down.
Watching everyone speed by.
Rushing.
Hearing the gusts of wind.
Smelling the broken grass.
Feeling the breeze on my cheeks.
Because I that’s all I can do while I wait.
This is an old one I brushed off and reworked. This one’s for my dad.
With his faithful tartan cap, its bobble flicking black dust into the air.
Holding in that tousled and already greying hair.
With half hundred weight of coal to deliver down the street.
With his smiling green lorry, tiny windows at his feet.
Walking up the narrow path, a smile upon his face.
Care worn lines deep with dust, crisscrossed like living lace.
Bringing warmth to many homes and our own.
Now the coal has gone but the lines remain beneath silver hair.
Hands hard and black with oil and years of toil and loyal care.
Has no wealth and all wealth one could want within his soft brick walls.
Always ready to respond to our lost and stranded calls.
Tall as a tree and as strong against every withering storm.
A mere spanner in his hands his wonders to perform.
Humble, with every reason to be mighty proud.
With pride these words should be read to all aloud.
Swirling in the mists of history
Mystic figures whirl
Dark silhouettes of dangerous men
Stride along with pride.A flash of a sword, the chord of a song
the clash of a shield, the beat of a drum.
The roar of a fire in a welcome hearth.
The hearty sound of the comrades’ laugh.
The scent of a feast, the warmth of the soup.
The strength of the beams over the hall
The smoke rising up into the straw
All of this and still there’s more.
A cold wind blows, the mist rolls back,
To show the cold hard facts.
Bended blade of grass
Bows in the summer twilight
A warm journey home.
Tired and worn out so
Going to sleep to dream of
Summer coming soon.
I make cars
I always have
As did my father.Prestige cars.
The most famous in the world
Made with pride.
Made with precision.
Made to last.
To shine and glide!
Every working day.
All the working hours.
My trusty hands create.
I may be steeped in habit
Tradition and old ways
But I trust in my own fate.
I support my family.
I support the plant.
And I support the land.
I pay my way my dues
while on my shoulders weighs
the burden that I support.
After all these years of toil
All my many dues.
Imagine my surprise, my boss.
I have given more than you!
The gulf between us grows and grows.
I wonder were we ever close?
Is it a myth we tell ourselves?
To give us false kudos.
One looks on one with envy
the other with disdain
But neither can leave the contract
for nothing is to gain?
Still the gulf grows wider
bridges tumble down
Yet the ties are tighter
Deeper runs the frown
Round and round this story goes
Will it ever end
The futile fixing of a problem
That will never end
So we have to ask ourselves
For richer? For poorer?
She is taken for granted by most
Loved by some, hated by others.
She gives some what they want
others are denied.
Some can’t believe their luck
Others demand too much.
She keeps alive the memory of those long gone.
Brings music from the past
Brings together worlds apart
Or breaks them down
Passes on words of love and hate
Over time and space.
The famous thank her
for everything she brings them
Other view her with jealousy
as she gives what they cannot.
She’ll save or kill her lovers
But she is here to stay.
The news is not normal
We must remember that.
At home with my family, safe on the sofa.
Working nine to five to bring home the bread
Struggling with bill but food on the table
Enjoying friendships and family
Days out, nights in, peace, leisure, entertainment
Warmth, safety, security and food.
Let us remember that this is our normal
that many do not enjoy.
For them the every day, the normal is
hunger, poverty, murder and rape.
The news is not normal
but we are the exception.
What can we do in the face of desolation?
Get the previous ones here
Screaming red white and blue,
Soaring in the clouds.
Thundering over the shore.
Red Arrows Roar!
Shouting into the hole that is the whole
Nothing back.
Raging against the system that is all
Nothing changed.
Staring at the box with the box.
Nothing gained.
Justifying every move you make
Not explained.
Time to change.
Flesh and bones and genes.
Is that me?
Shirt and tie and jeans
Is that me?
The places I have been.
Is that me?
The words of praise, the blame that cuts
Is that me?
The songs I loved, the books I have read,
The colours I paint, what I like in my bread.
Are these me?
The friends I love and miss,
That is me
The taste of beer and chat,
That is me
The love for my wife and sons,
That is me.
The song bursting in my lungs,
That is me
The stories in my head
That is me
The place where I grew up,
where I was wed,
where one son was named, the other laid to rest
That is me
My dreams that are out of reach
That is me.
Get the previous ones here
Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 