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;
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
And as the sea turns.
So a man turns.
And as the sea has a seabed.
So a man his watery grave:
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.
Poem on a Full Moon
It makes no sound
unless you get a pylon
and beat it.
Drum out deep rumbling grooves.
Knock out nocturnal dance rhythms.
Sad silent cyclops moon.
You to be my cymbal.
I to be your other eye.