The opportunity finally came on 26th October at the Sunday Matinee held at Slack Space in Colchester. My thanks to those concerned for the chance to read and making the whole event happen. I've appended the set below; if you were there you'll have a chance to revisit the material if you wish and if you weren't you can have a read if you'd like to. Going forwards I aim to complete the Testimony re-write, some sixty poems in all and work on some new material that I've got typed up in "rough form" at the moment.
I don't think a poem necessarily gets "frozen" for ever, an ossified work set in tablets of stone that can never be revised but some are at a point where I can't do much more than tweak them here and there. I guess I'm happy with them as they stand and in the final analysis that is enough for me going forwards. Poetry is a very personal thing.
I hope you like the set, in the end it is all about the poems, they articulate what I want and need to say.....
Matryoshka
Do you remember when we started our journey, took off that
first brittle outer shell and bared a second layer of ourselves?
My sweet Matryoshka, did you think I would reveal myself all
at once?
You were guarded the same as me after all.
It was like diving in the beginning, swooping to a different
level and getting a glimpse before
Soaring back up again.
Do you remember those first kisses, the delicate touches of
reverent explorers?
When we opened another level like a brightly wrapped present
and I felt your intimate touch.
It was then we lost control and first spoke of love.
The thrill of loosing ourselves to exhaustion like an ebbing
tide will stay with me forever.
Do you remember my sweet doll, the next layer, when we
became real and showed our faults?
To one another, like growth rings.
We sometimes cried together, always making up with tea and
kind words.
The levels got smaller but more intense, deeper as each
unfurled like the petals of a flower
Kissed by the sun.
Each time we split in the middle we opened ourselves anew in
an intimate shrinking
Our worlds melting together like chocolate.
Still looking for the kernel of who we are, we fooled
ourselves that we could ever know what one another thought.
We carried on our quest into an inner universe where
everything became increasingly compressed.
It got harder to breathe then sweet Matryoshka, the very act
of filling my lungs began to hurt.
I’m not sure who panicked first as we fell into smaller and
smaller spaces, until we realised we’d gone too far, could never extricate
ourselves from one another.
We hunted each other relentlessly to the last atom trying to
satisfy our thirst to know.
You’d long since fused with my very life essence
but my sweet doll, it was never enough, you had to possess all of me and I fell
into you head first.
Others heard me crying and wistfully remembered who I’d
been, as I span ever more quickly, caressing your inner space until I’d
disappeared into you altogether and only a faint echo remained.
Curving
I thought by hinting hard enough you’d read me
Thought if I wished with all my soul you’d need me
Thought if I launched prayers on tears God would hear me
Thought if I could curve time I’d bring you near me
I hoped against all hope you’d kiss and feed me
Hoped beyond desire you’d heed my pleading
Hoped I could give all that wasn’t mine
Hoped, sincerely, I could curve time
I wanted to be the centre of your universe
Wanted to rapture you in sweetest verse
Wanted a magic hour when you’d be mine
And set with all my heart to curving time
Peacocks
Love has many layers, multi-coloured shades
A hundred different moods, filled with falling
thoughts.
I sent my love to guard you, protect you from all
ill
Life tried to turn the flame away but love keeps
vigil still.
Some have tried to tame love, lulling it to sleep
But I gave mine to peacocks, as guardians, to keep.
When they fan their feathers on mornings clear and
chill
A hundred eyes are keeping watch, a triumph of my
will.
Songs can echo sentiments, hope be a substitute for
words
Patterned thoughts make butterflies, build nests
like bower birds.
Love has many aspects, will you heed the clarion
call?
I await your only
answer, before the Cherry Blossom falls.
Carnegiea Gigantea
Driving my car across Arizona,
Or somewhere, vast and empty, flat as forever
Thinking you'd be by my side
I swear I can see your face
Peeping at me from behind a saguaro.
It was fun whilst it lasted, giving me something to hope
for,
Even to live for.
I remember how you tipped your head to face the sun
And when it kissed you in return, thinking I saw a halo.
You were my angel.....
What to do now?
An empty seat, so many miles ahead, endless hours to
pass....
Perhaps I'll drive naked into the sunset, there’s nobody
here to mind after all.....
You’ll see where I’ve been from the trail of clothes
Like the shirt I discarded fifty miles ago
I’m heading for the border: destination Teotihuacan.....
Once I'm there, atop of the pyramid of the sun, I’ll tip my
head as you once did
Look along the avenue of the dead and allow myself a smile
Always knowing, in my heart
I’m walking in the footsteps
Of those who have travelled the road to the
Gods.
Japan
In a different way of looking at things, it’s the moment of
sublime perfection
Where beauty stretches its fragile fingers as cherry blossom
fronds
That instant is the one to die, the passing in itself a
supreme majesty.
Nothing is permanent and they know this, with their ancient
wisdom
They celebrate the moment that the blossoms fall, flutter
down
Settle on the water, thin pink droplets like fragrant tears.
I shed myself the same for you. Lay upon your still waters
for a moment
Passing a torrent of myself, like blossom, through a needle
gate
That instant is the one to die, the passing in itself a supreme majesty.
Junk Mail
I waited for the fall of your card upon the doormat
Ached to hear a sound that said you cared
Strained my ears for the fall of envelope on carpet
A hope of thoughts you might have kindly spared.
I waited through that cold, grey, winter morning
For those words to light me, like your smile
Daydreamed in colour of our door step conversation
When your toes playfully gripped the carpet pile.
I waited through hours that slowly turned to days
Sat forgotten under a covering of dust
Motionless as spiders weaved their webs around me
Warmed only by false memories of “us”.
Do you know the pain that your omission brought me?
As emotionally I turned into a ghost
Silence only broken by the shattering of hope
No love, just junk mail through the post.
Growth Rings
Read me with your
finger tips
Trace the rings of
years
Feel when I was
young and strong
Wipe away my tears
Run your finger
round my lips
I’ll whisper you my
thoughts
Feel when I
withheld myself
And when I gave my
all
Smooth your palm across
my spine
Feel when you came
to me
Touch the painful
curvature
Caused when you set
me free
The ache of passing
tracts of time
Have left their
bitter mark
Run hands across my
ageing skin
It's wrinkles feel
like bark
A chill wind blows
across the fields
And sooths the tree
that weeps
Let’s relive the
moments that we spent
Swap secrets that
we'll keep
Let’s spread our
arms in sunshine
Live in daylight
not the dark
Place a lover’s
hand upon my chest
And feel a beating
heart.
Over
Walking the cold of a winter’s morning
Emulating the desolation of skeletal forms
I too have shed myself
Stride spindly and wind chilled
Time removes us with every pace
And sadness reins within
You have delivered
Your parting overture
What now as I walk the valley
And silence sings from the hillside?
Nothing but this:
Leafless trees and stones on the top of an
icy lake
Where I tried to skip them
Or a word blowing through me
Like a falling leaf
Whispering it’s over
Over
Over
Wire Walking
The fibres of my heart are stretched to breaking point
between twin towers forming a wire,
Taut and ready to break. Carefully I test the tension,
throat tightening with anticipation.
Once committed I know I can never look back, can never turn
around or roll back time
Yet I take a deep breath and step out, remembering the words
of a wise man who
Said we’re born with only two fears, loud noises and
tumbling into the abyss.
The journey is an imperative.
Suspended amid the clouds between earth and sky I apply the
principle of moments,
Performing a delicate balancing act between East and West
between love and love.
I daren't look down or allow myself to contemplate the chasm
that yawns beneath me
High above the birds I make careful adjustments, risking it
all, knowing one mistake separates
Me from spinning, helplessly, like a sycamore seed. Up here
I understand the seagull’s lonely
Call, a cry birthed between loss and tension.
Borne on wings of sweat, I'm buffeted by the storm, shaking
with the fear of love,
Until I hear gentle soothing notes, the tiny singularities
of Trois Gymniopedies.
The beauty of the moment stills my wind-blown soul. Suddenly
none of it matters any more.
I lay down on the wire, smile at the sky and touch the face
of God
Zvyozdochkin’s Children
The geese came early this year, covering our
steppes like snow, heralds of the cold to come
First flakes falling yesterday, slowly at first,
soon painting the endless fields in brilliant white
Stretching far away into a cloud kissed horizon.
It’s hard to imagine summer’s sea of flowers,
nodding their heads in fragrant agreement
With gentle breezes
Now Mother Russia’s icy breath is upon us, it
settles in hoar frost flakes on your eye lashes
Glistening like jewels on your furs.
We too had our day in the sun, lying by the
lakeside, watching swifts wheeling above us
Their shrill cries of delight filled the air,
mixing with our own.
What became of you my dearest girl?
We played Russian dolls you and I, each reduction
revealing a different hidden personality.
How we loved losing those layers, running hand in
hand through air filled with seed!
I knew your every need before you’d even
asked.
Your voice echoes in my memory clear as ice, the
white of your smile still lights my mind’s eye.
Promise you’ll return my sweet Matryoshka, light my
world with the songs of spring
Paint my sunsets red
again with the fire of your kisses.
Mark Harris has asserted his
right under
Section 77 of the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act 1988
To be identified as the author
of this work.
Bravo Mr Harris. Bravo indeed. Fine words. More please....
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