in verse

Some Poetry:

1.

Examination at Poet’s Corner

I pity the likes of Mr Hughes;

His stinking foxes, the ever drying ink.

Inspired poetry, lovely to peruse,

But with passing time I have come to think;

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Poetical art isn’t for cheaters

Or chancy creatures, but tigers enticed

Out from the undergrowth of rhymes and metres

Yet whose symmetry may go unnoticed.

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And Mr Hughes we will have clarity

As well as individuality

And with patient toil and the passing of time,

When words work’s done, things will tend to rhyme.

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A talented friend and linguist has kindly translated (to Spanish) some of the poems she liked from my blog. I would have liked to thank her by crediting her work but she has asked to remain anonymous.  I´ve attached scans of these translations under each poem.

2.

First Time Poem

I saw a puddle in the sea.

I saw a man drown in the puddle in the sea.

And I saw in that drowning

a man´s depths and drunkenness.

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When you put a man to your ear

you can hear the sea.

And the sea in a man hears you.

But put a man to your heart

and he can make it beat

like a storm beats a shore.

And like a shell holds a secret,

so a man holds and holds and holds.

And like a storm looks out from it’s eye,

so a man stares and stares and stares.

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And as the sea turns.

So a man turns.

And as the sea has a seabed.

So a man his watery grave:

Aman.

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Self Portrait as God

My head spins so fast

that my thoughts have a kind of gravity.

My greatness is such that

I have to stoop, have become crooked.

I can’t sleep

for the sound of my own breathing.

Everyday I amaze myself

which isn’t surprising.

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Poem on a Full Moon

It makes no sound

unless you get a pylon

and beat it.

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Drum out deep rumbling grooves.

Knock out nocturnal dance rhythms.

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Sad silent cyclops moon.

You to be my cymbal.

I to be your other eye.

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