#poem #poetry #amwriting the muslim's tale viii

abandoned now upon the rack
yoked as a slave to the flesh
inshallah he hears a hundred times
cain's mark he bears upon his head

in the lower forest of the climb
where man does not clear nor farm
a narrow track threads the groves
of shadows without near or far

and here to ali's great dismay
a feasting tiger bars the path
half hidden by the shafting rays
and the weighty buffalo carcass

don't cry out says the buffalo
nor listen to the growls
nor look into the tigers eye
nor try to run if she prowls

but be strong in allah's sight
pass bravely my honoured death
as I feed your foe - you must recite
for me - your friend - the janazah

thus saying the buffalo fell dead
on voiceless lips ali groaned the prayer
three times for his fallen brother
and an instikhaarah to ward the fear

day passed to purple night
the mercury of the seeker's path
ran ever upwards in false hope
that this ascent might be the last

#poem #poetry #amwriting the muslim's tale vii

how happy is the man who hears
his spirit rich with meccan glow
above him hawks to show the path
from filth to purity made whole

just one diamond he takes at first
ali always cautious as the crow
he well has time full measure to make
and does not fear the unseen blow

ten miles along he meets a crone
of skeleton shrunk and whithered in
to make twice wrinkled of her skin
her eyes as dark of polished bronze

and lain at her crippled foot - O kismet -
a lamb fresh flayed and meat prepared
without it's head or feet - O answered prayers -
joyous as warm rain in parched field

the crone's bright eyes sparkle dull
she tickles his pilgrim holiness
her one demand by haggled bull
to run her errand by his life - after sacrifice

first one - then ten stones reign down
his cast of servants strain their lease
as loyal fury boils them to a kettle
and in a steam of jingled jesses flee

how narrow is the bridge of heaven
for upon shouldering the lamb
the crone turned to thick pillar'd smoke
sealing ali into the djins bargain

#poem #poetry #amwriting the muslim's tale vi

thrice the sun slides oe'r the noon
hawk-tail's catch uplifting drafts
widow's weep and mother's groan
for haunting death bestrides this road

his belly nags for want of alms
ali's knife stays out of sight
the pointed tip no longer picks
the diamonds of the cockled heart

crunched shut eyes he rocks and prays
for just two more - just two - oh lord -
to make redemption touching true
fulfillment of the imam's word

poor stubborn ali - touched by grace
neither barking dog or dead lion he
philosopher birds have shown the path
yet this donkey prays for century

O ali - the fickle faults of men that love
more grasping of their lack - than in desire
for the hand that holds nothing is bound
O ali - prepare for ankle-deep hell-fire

at last the proverb comes again
twelve thirsty months he dug this well
cutting hearts and bathed in blood
why wait for two - when it may rain

to the joyous taste of fresh picked almond
to the hidden cave he goes
to the city - one by one he'll take them -
for there are robbers on the road

#poem #poetry #amwriting the muslim's tale v

past the dark hours - ali lay in bed
the cords of lotvia's music stinging
when first one hawk and then the next
petrified him to the spine by speaking

ali most faithful of all men said the first
sinful guilt has struck you foolish
do not hide my charity in that cave
I command you use it to it's fullest

most cursed of all men says it's neighbour
your servants serve you dutifully
spend thine wealth - buy a stallion
to display thy servants beautifully

along the cadge of resting hawks
each removing of companion's hood
came haggard croak of sage advice
alternate praise 'tween cursed and prized

when the last bird spoke - all was still
first hint of morning broke the hills
in golden carried angelic chorus
ali saw in halo - ibn koinos' house

but where could ali get a lamb
in payment for a consultation
with that old man of the mountain
brought to mind by revelation

rising he kneeled to pray at the call
thanking the most merciful of all
just two more lives he would take
a sheep for a lamb - for heaven's sake

#poem #poetry #amwriting generations

generations

last night while he slept
I went to him
to kiss the bruise on his chin

he deeply sighed
but did not wake

in the lapping light from the hall
he reminds me of my father

just as I
close the door
so will he

#poem #poetry #amwriting the muslim's tale iv

ali took his loot to a hidden cave
dark and thin as is a womb
by strangled candlelight he'd count
ninety-eight diamonds in the gloom

then he'd wait the clouded moon
to cloak him as he slipped for home
to mince the mice caught in traps
to feed his hawks - while he ate scraps

ninety-eight diamonds bought in blood
each the human race destroyed
yet still he must salute the judge
and still - though rich - had no wife

how sorry is miserly greed - have mercy
for ali must bear the sores of a beggar
curse the law that makes him murder
or eunuch if again caught thief

then what use is he to lotvia
more beautiful than the breeze of a brook
who of a glance an octave of the buzuq plays
and for whom ninety-eight have shortened days

for as the night stilled to jasmine'd breath
to silvered sight illuminate
from the court of the merchants house
lotvia and her sister doolia music make

and ali would climb a ladder to the roof
flatten himself serpent low
and fall in love again with every note that played
and know why he was punished so - to stay

#poem #poetry #amwriting the muslim's tale iii

tangential to the noted path of venus' plane
descend we must sage scented mists
to the warmer lands of floods and rains
where by turning of the wheel all men live

here the tiger spikes it's claws to flints
against the reigning tree of shade
and the laden donkey mocks
the boasts to hard-loins some men make

and here is poor ali - a woeful man
made cobbled life now tongue bereft
and heedless he to the songs of birds
footpad caught - sword made deaf

oh there is poor ali - all in rags
a bowl before and crutch beside
waiting by the caravan trail
for crumbs of bread from passers-by

but they do not see the hunting hawks
scouting out the jewels and gold
travelers don't look up for death
but scour the djinn-eyed gully folds

nor will they feel the savage blow
as predators pour down weighty stones
but for a while beneath their ribs
they will taste the dagger honed

none shall need their earthly riches
on the road to paradise or hell
at the tiny cost of trapping mice
ali's treasure-house did swell

#poem #poetry #amwriting the muslim's tale ii

above his door this message he proclaimed
'without history told true - only law remains'
thus no judge made he between shia and sunni
nor of hadith for he knew allah perfect he

let the heavens in their spirits move
in aged remembrance twice removed
still we hear that song of spheres
ungranted youth devoid of tears

let sorrow flow from cherished books
to the of false faith so proud be damned
maggots grey shall eat their eyes
as laughing wind takes off their sighs

care not for him who in battle's heat
tricks angels wings to carry him
past those who lived in submission
and never struck the cutting strike

the thief who steals by dead of night
feeds the very devil thrice
let him bask in flames sublime
forever satan's concubine

thus he answered all who sought advice
outside his door - offered lamb was laid
question asked - then backed away
when the bell was sounded - answer came

O pure and honest life of women free
between the mountain and the sons of man
beauty beyond all that lays within a span
tenfold blessed lived the old man of mountain

#poem #poetry #amwriting the muslims tale i

in the time of our grandfathers
high in the hills beyond the clouds
the air so pure no trumpet sounds
deceiving whispers found no ear

this house co-eternal like the book
played host to ghengis who drew near
tamerlane piled no skulls for fear
of the bees of heaven living here

and the old man of the mountain
wise beyond the imams of baghdad
each stone he knew as a father
so old he marched with alexander

he it was that harvested the honey
in each hive a copy of the koran
the queen hafiz proficient learned
recites the verses new moon reborn

for here so high the spring blossom
must flower through the winter snow
and here alone but a single peach tree
marks calender of seasons flow

in the valley deep beyond and down
passing like rain - the lives of men
puddled rich in noble struggle strained
or drained out in wasteful joys haram

and so ibn koinos lived to watch the sun
on honey and peaches fowl and fish
sometimes from the valley would come
a visitor - with a lamb - seeking exegesis

#poem #poetry #amwriting into the woods - prologue

and at that time and in that place
where shadows of the elm laid trace
we gathered there for debate
of matters small and matters great

first to arrive and tucked up tight
came a maid of whom moonlight
never swept across her form
by way of curtain lust swift drawn
though fair of face she held a pallor
her cheeks they had a tint of sallow
yellowness where flush might be
though in advance we all agreed
not to state ought of her looks
for she had read in many books
and magazines o'er many years
that women oft' provoke men's fears
and if our oath we did break
this lady did this promise make
to quit our talks and report
this space not safe to the public court
and bring down upon our heads
opprobrium both dire and dread
for she did not trust our motives
leading her into the greenwoods
no matter how loud our protestation
to avoid misty WIFI congestion
therein to grow thoughts full and fat
without the need of tinfoil hat
but she feared we lured her from her home
beyond the signal of her phone
she kept her hand clasped at her chest
and spoke in shortened anxious breaths
of how she feared it looked like rain
feared she was the only woman
and was any other feeling cold
and was that breeze a trifle bold
a friendship bracelet bound her wrist
she declared herself a humanist

next came a man of not quite forty
with trilby angled on the jaunty
his countenance was bright and friendly
his leather jacket worn and trendy
and on his lapel in neat medaled line
ran coloured badges as a sign
of where he had marched and whom he fought
in constant strife of justice sought
for bombs disarmed to till the soil
securing blood for men and not for oil
but the badge he held in most esteem
wore pride of place to buckle jeans
hand crafted it was with much bravura
it was the crucified che guevara
and as it was by a catholic made
who plied his wares to the tourist trade
three LED lights shone bright green
to show che's features quite serene
this feature after sunday mass
amazed the children and made them laugh
thus he sought to break the ice
and lead them to his message nice
that jesus too was just like che
they both robbed the banks of their day
so confused was the doctrine of this vicar
that the bishop despaired and many sniggered
but the heresy was not that great
and it did put dough in the collection plate
so they left him thus to fish his sea
he was very liberal C of E

now despite our meeting in the woods
the next among us wore a hood
he claimed he was a wanted man
on account of eating ham
he preferred to stay behind a tree
we shouldn't worry he could see
and would offer freely his opinion
unless it happened that his cousin
might be out to walk his dog
and happen up through the bog
that lay just beyond where we gathered
we should know his cousin was called javed
his boxer dog was called khan
we must hoot like an owl to give alarm
before we could object or agree
perchance an owl made him flee
we saw him no more and knew not his fate
that poor islamic apostate

perfumed pines did sweetly smell
as velvet night enclosed and fell
the waning moon revealing curve
as one by one the stars above
betook their place in constellation
to hold counsel of our conversation
as we looked across those grassy marshes
settling into peace and darkness
at the horizon touched by the sun
the crashing sea but as a hum
as constant as the flow of blood
in an ear when touched by love

well chosen was this spot in truth
an amphitheater to stage our proofs
with each a log and formed around
a pit of fire - should stoa need be found
the trees that crept up to the clearing
made perfect place within hearing
where those in private might go
and stay within the fire glow
to consider or to prove a point
then take their place again in light

next there came with camera crew
a muslim man well known on news
if an editor needed rash comment
eagerly he'd shout and vent
of bushy beard and eastern dress
his raven eye caused much distress
to many with his bumptious claim
that christmas was a vicious game
for turkey was a muslim land
and so it was with slight of hand
christians on the twenty fifth
dined full fat on muslim flesh
perhaps he did not know the bird
nor if was true what he had heard
not that it mattered for his views
were controlled by magic jews
if wrong or so he asserted
when from his mouth error blurted
like when he said for a happy life
a man must have at least ten wives
this he claimed on television
but quickly he made forced revision
in ideal world he claimed in wit
for he was claiming benefit
and therefore under sharia law
he was clearly far too poor
for ten wives and support them
magic jews again had tricked him
or so he told the documentary
but it was all elementary
come glorious day this great man
would pigs and monkeys all confound

a note need be added here
in case my satyr too severe
in no way do I suggest
those holy by the prophet blessed
by this man are represent
but when I asked he was sent
and yes I fear him too extreme
a moderate of high esteem
was what was asked not what I got
and so I must accept my lot
just as chaucer got the bawdy miller
this man will do as comic filler

besides if this verse sees light of day
it must to the fashion play
and this chap is never off the screen
so popularity must needs obscene

let critics with their salty hands
bemoan and plague this plate of fruit
what care the fauns of these lands
of meter rhymes and rules laid suit
when those without divine intent
who plod out words with their pen
in cryptic verse of modern bent
demand these laws return again

pass the wine and join the dance
beat out the drum for here we dance
and if the plodders choose to prance
smile forbearance of the snide
for in le corbusier's dream they hide
for fear of that what lays outside

oh juvenal reign down in mirth
come forth milton and give birth
give apples sweet to great dante
make bottom dear again donkey
for piled high are quince and grapes
from this full dish the merry sates
should they not choose to prate
fat chance of that in this world mate

for poetry now is a shriveled thing
where once philosophy took wing
the barren realm of I is king

no more delight in word and wit
just foolish gold of arsenic
and angry cries from targets hit

so with loosened tongue and lifted palate
plosive lips and glottal free
let us hang the last of our gallery
and ignore the psalms of those who hate

first came in woe and lamentation
fresh from fruitless consultation
a rabbi held up faultless in the law
this man could recite the torah
word perfect from the age of nine
and talmud if he had the time
not that he did for he was pressed
closing the seas of exodus
as more of his congregation fled
to bounce on trampolines and beds
at the jumping jews for jesus hall
such anguished tears stained his shawl
mothers wept for their children
forsaking the unbroken generations
had they suffered persecution for this
the temporary thrill of uplifting bliss
with that dreaded book in hand
blood for blood on the sins of man
he was orthodox straight and true
his eyes they sparkled kind and blue
his laugh could light a room with joy
in private he a bisl goy
no harm had he or offence did hatch
yet here was landed on his watch
a challenge intractable with his lord
and worse for he plainly saw
there sitting with a camera crew
that muslim of shape-shifting jews
could his day grow more grim
to spend an evening with him
but he found the heart to face the trial
as joseph chained unto to the nile
for while he breathed and stayed a jew
for the lord his kindred could renew

final came the wrath of the lord
in instrument stout tory sword
material of hammered beryl
formal amazon made polecat feral
by efficient harpie's screams
you'll all agree or so it seems
perfect aristotle's four causes
of why she bought no roses
to decorate the family font
but swam across the hellespont
to the catholic and the universal
for she could make no reversal
on doctrinal points about priestesses
preferring incense'd men in dresses
candles books and bells and all creations
of mysterious transubstantiation
and though she kept the family seat
now she held it passionate
beryl's ordination may have sparked the storm
this lady's wrath in actual form
found ironic and surprising turn
when in no matter would she affirm
except through matter of virgin mary
thus justified in faith was she

and so she came to join the group
parked on logs in spreading wood

behold mortals and be afraid
I am the epiphany of this glade
witness round on all sides
all my creatures and all my spites
that will devour you if you run
the blackest dogs to eat tongue
flying elves will catch all cries
crush them bursting in bulging eyes
my satyrs be half man half goat
will seize by force life out from your throat
your hearts and livers lungs and lights
on them they'll feast in cold delight
and you two women in frenzy climbed
will rip the men limb from limb
ecstatically they will screech a laugh
holding high leg or arm as fennel staff
then naked I shall make them be
to sleep amid the blood run free
to wake at dawn to beg repent
emein the chunks of skin you ate

or if you stay to take my task
in my love you all shall bask
for I provide the finest joys

I need only point that wine will flow
name your delight it will be so
tonight you dine commes des rois

each of you will tell a story
that best describes the glory
of you monotheistic God

and saying thus the prologue ends
thank you all dear friends
for staying with this gaudy
of motley and of fools

#poem #poetry #amwriting into the woods iv

final came the wrath of the lord
in instrument stout tory sword
material of hammered beryl
formal amazon made polecat feral
by efficient harpie's screams
you'll all agree or so it seems
perfect aristotle's four causes
of why she bought no roses
to decorate the family font
but swam across the hellespont
to the catholic and the universal
for she could made no reversal
on doctrinal points about priestesses
preferring incense'd men in dresses
candles books and bells and all creations
of mysterious transubstantiation
and though she kept the family seat
now she held it passionate
beryl's ordination may have sparked the storm
this lady's wrath in actual form
found ironic and surprising turn
when in no matter would she affirm
except through matter of virgin mary
thus justified in faith was she

and so she came to join the group
parked on logs in spreading wood

behold mortals and be afraid
I am the epiphany of this glade
witness round on all sides
all my creatures and all my spites
that will devour you if you run
the blackest dogs to eat tongue
flying elves will catch all cries
crush them bursting in bulging eyes
my satyrs be half man half goat
will seize by force life out from your throat
your hearts and livers lungs and lights
on them they'll feast in cold delight
and you two women in frenzy climbed
will rip the men limb from limb
ecstatically they will screech a laugh
holding high leg or arm as fennel staff
then naked I shall make them be
to sleep amid the blood run free
to wake at dawn to beg repent
emein the chunks of skin you ate

or if you stay to take my task
in my love you all shall bask
for I provide the finest joys

I need only point that wine will flow
name your delight it will be so
tonight you dine commes des rois

each of you will tell a story
that best describes the glory
of you monotheistic God

and saying thus the prologue ends
thank you all dear friends
for staying with this gaudy
of motley and of fools

#poem #poetry #amwriting into the woods 3

let critics with their salty hands
bemoan and plague this plate of fruit
what care the fauns of these lands
of meter rhymes and rules laid suit
when those without divine intent
who plod out words with their pen
in cryptic verse of modern bent
demand these laws return again

pass the wine and join the dance
beat out the drum for here we dance
and if the plodders choose to prance
smile forbearance of the snide
for in le corbusier's dream they hide
for fear of that what lays outside

oh juvenal reign down in mirth
come forth milton and give birth
give apples sweet to great dante
make bottom dear again donkey
for piled high are quince and grapes
from this full dish the merry sates
should they not choose to prate
fat chance of that in this world mate

for poetry now is a shriveled thing
where once philosophy took wing
the barren realm of I is king

no more delight in word and wit
just foolish gold of arsenic
and angry cries from targets hit

so with loosened tongue and lifted palate
plosive lips and glottal free
let us hang the last of our gallery
and ignore the psalms of those who hate

first came in woe and lamentation
fresh from fruitless consultation
a rabbi held up faultless in the law
this man could recite the torah
word perfect from the age of nine
and talmud if he had the time
not that he did for he was pressed
closing the seas of exodus
as more of his congregation fled
to bounce on trampolines and beds
at the jumping jews for jesus hall
such anguished tears stained his shawl
mothers wept for their children
forsaking the unbroken generations
had they suffered persecution for this
the temporary thrill of uplifting bliss
with that dreaded book in hand
blood for blood on the sins of man
he was orthodox straight and true
his eyes they sparkled kind and blue
his laugh could light a room with joy
in private he a bisl goy
no harm had he or offence did hatch
yet here was landed on his watch
a challenge intractable with his lord
and worse for he plainly saw
there sitting with a camera crew
that muslim of shape-shifting jews
could his day grow more grim
to spend an evening with him
but he found the heart to face the trial
as joseph chained unto to the nile
for while he breathed and stayed a jew
for the lord his kindred could renew

#poem #poetry #amwriting into the woods 2

perfumed pines did sweetly smell
as velvet night enclosed and fell
the waning moon revealing curve
as one by one the stars above
betook their place in constellation
to hold counsel of our conversation
as we looked across those grassy marshes
settling into peace and darkness
at the horizon touched by the sun
the crashing sea but as a hum
as constant as the flow of blood
in an ear when touched by love

well chosen was this spot in truth
an amphitheater to stage our proofs
with each a log and formed around
a pit of fire - should stoa need be found
the trees that crept up to the clearing
made perfect place within hearing
where those in private might go
and stay within the fire glow
to consider or to prove a point
then take their place again in light

next there came with camera crew
a muslim man well known on news
if an editor needed rash comment
eagerly he'd shout and vent
of bushy beard and eastern dress
his raven eye caused much distress
to many with his bumptious claim
that christmas was a vicious game
for turkey was a muslim land
and so it was with slight of hand
christians on the twenty fifth
dined full fat on muslim flesh
perhaps he did not know the bird
nor if was true what he had heard
not that it mattered for his views
were controlled by magic jews
if wrong or so he asserted
when from his mouth error blurted
like when he said for a happy life
a man must have at least ten wives
this he claimed on television
but quickly he made forced revision
in ideal world he claimed in wit
for he was claiming benefit
and therefore under sharia law
he was clearly far too poor
for ten wives and support them
magic jews again had tricked him
or so he told the documentary
but it was all elementary
come glorious day this great man
would pigs and monkeys all confound

a note need be added here
in case my satyr too severe
in no way do I suggest
those holy by the prophet blessed
by this man are represent
but when I asked he was sent
and yes I fear him too extreme
a moderate of high esteem
was what was asked not what I got
and so I must accept my lot
just as chaucer got the bawdy miller
this man will do as comic filler

besides if this verse sees light of day
it must to the fashion play
and this chap is never off the screen
so popularity must needs obscene

#poem #poetry #amwriting #sketchbook

it is the nature of light / to offer shadowsto not fill in the back-story / of objections

beyond the veil / all hope lies
just as we are not forsaken / by sun
which passes / into cloud

#poem #poetry #amwriting modesty

modesty

samantha stripped off today
in the middle of the afternoon
she announced she'd had enough
rolled back her chair
and with brazen disregard for the dress code
- unveiled

then
neatly folded her garments
sat down
tuned in
and data mined

obviously she kept her shoes on
the office carpet is filthy

I'm told production rose two per cent
with brian increasing output most
- he sits opposite samantha

#poem #poetry #amwriting #sketchbook bleh

in the dimming evening falling
as heat of day escapes the air
we pause upon the limestone cliff
share water from a single cup
watching oe'r the spreading chase
toward the misting sea and sun

already there are stars
at the darker corners of sky

#poem #poetry #amwriting #sketchbook notes

how apt a plover should in perfection mark
that early sea-mist as night rain rolls off

the mudflats team with dippers and prodders
each more guilty than the next

in fast action always moving - three toed
three toes and down and up
to catch who sees their empty beak

a single gull crash-lands
earthquaking the jellied sands

in gross vulgarity it necks a fish
gagging all the while

#poem #poetry #amwriting #sketchbook into the woods

and at that time and in that place
where shadows of the elm laid trace
we gathered there for debate
of matters small and matters great

first to arrive and tucked up tight
came a maid of whom moonlight
never swept across her form
by way of curtain lust swift drawn
though fair of face she held a pallor
her cheeks they had a tint of sallow
yellowness where flush might be
though in advance we all agreed
not to state ought of her looks
for she had read in many books
and magazines o'er many years
that women oft' provoke men's fears
and if our oath we did break
this lady did this promise make
to quit our talks and report
this space not safe to the public court
and bring down upon our heads
opprobrium both dire and dread
for she did not trust our motives
leading her into the greenwoods
no matter how loud our protestation
to avoid misty WIFI congestion
therein to grow thoughts full and fat
without the need of tinfoil hat
but she feared we lured her from her home
beyond the signal of her phone
she kept her hand clasped at her chest
and spoke in shortened anxious breaths
of how she feared it looked like rain
feared she was the only woman
and was any other feeling cold
and was that breeze a trifle bold
a friendship bracelet bound her wrist
she declared herself a humanist

next came a man of not quite forty
with trilby angled on the jaunty
his countenance was bright and friendly
his leather jacket worn and trendy
and on his lapel in neat medaled line
ran coloured badges as a sign
of where he had marched and whom he fought
in constant strife of justice sought
for bombs disarmed to till the soil
securing blood for men and not for oil
but the badge he held in most esteem
wore pride of place to buckle jeans
hand crafted it was with much bravura
it was the crucified che guevara
and as it was by a catholic made
who plied his wares to the tourist trade
three LED lights shone bright green
to show che's features quite serene
this feature after sunday mass
amazed the children and made them laugh
thus he sought to break the ice
and lead them to his message nice
that jesus too was just like che
they both robbed the banks of their day
so confused was the doctrine of this vicar
that the bishop despaired and many sniggered
but the heresy was not that great
and it did put dough in the collection plate
so they left him thus to fish his sea
he was very liberal C of E

now despite our meeting in the woods
the next among us wore a hood
he claimed he was a wanted man
on account of eating ham
he preferred to stay behind a tree
we shouldn't worry he could see
and would offer freely his opinion
unless it happened that his cousin
might be out to walk his dog
and happen up through the bog
that lay just beyond where we gathered
we should know his cousin was called javed
his boxer dog was called khan
we must hoot like an owl to give alarm
before we could object or agree
perchance an owl made him flee
we saw him no more and knew not his fate
that poor islamic apostate

#poem #poetry #amwriting the best of all possible worlds

the best of all possible worlds

who do you most admire in history?
voltaire

if you could time travel and kill a single person for the benefit of humanity, who would it be?
voltaire

#poem #poetry #amwriting exchange

exchange

"spare some change"
I button up my coat
to passing through the needle eye

"god bless you"
how dare he!
how dare he invoke god

I return with a pound

for which at present
I might buy fifty barrels of oil

that should keep the lamp burning

and if not that
the can of special brew

god it's cold!

#poem #poetry #amwriting refuges

refuges

fake lilacs on the window turn
as we enter this space called room

in all possibility we could stretch out
beyond the window and fly

merge around the faded pink leaves
of silk to that that lies within

but we are already there and need not
defined space from which to begin

only in the pardon of excuse
when from politeness we take form

in concrete plasticity moulded
by fridays and sundays

by the closing doors of commuter trains
or the notion that we can vicariously live

through an executed will of favorite songs
believing the lyrics to be our own

for without recitation of our soul
we see only the room and think the lilac real

#poem #poetry #amwriting #sketchbook 5

1

flowers have such courage
not for them the fear
that opening their spirit will be condemned

and yet when passing a meadow
the closed man does not see
the strength required to feed the bee

so it leads to judgment
of what is good and what is bad

or to the vase
in which all shrink

2

oh rise! oh dimmed morning star
relax your light into the sky

while lamps of oil illuminate
the texts and tracts of certain strife

amid wealth's architecture
square set and concrete

3

today someone will suffer
but their pain not make no mark

it will miss the grand idea
be not judged worthy of report
or be not on the list
for those who joust with lives

4

beneath my nails
a halo of grey spreads
from scratching an itch

the more I scrape it
the more it grows
and darkens into a putty of salt

once it was me
my beard
the thought that tickled my ear

5

why should we complain?

why should be not just grow old
and rejoice that a cough
may loosen a tooth

#poem #poetry #amwriting opening night

sometime between -
when a careless arm might still find
coolness in a sheet -

she fancies phantoms -

but opening an eye
- to the width of half a lash -
nothing could be seen
- down rolls lid upon exhale

for her athletic feet
- the chemist - whom she had known
since still a girl in hoops -
made a preparation of lavender
which always smelt her bed distinct
in perfumed combination with painted po beneath -
and heavy goose-down dream-caught sweats
- the counter-pain - the wool blanket -
the spreading electric warmth below
- no tighter world was more enclosed

always answers to each question posed
- on kings and queens and rationed sweets
falling bombs and motor cars
seaside treats and relatives who fell down holes
- but never talk of blackened skin
that ended nights at grand-mamas

all men stayed at broach-pin length
now - perhaps it was a shoe
she thought - again it came -
again again - mixed into unconscious thoughts
of shopping lists and garden walks
- perhaps it was a shoe - she thought -
and dropped blind hand to fumble round

she does not wake
nor tumble round
but turns with all neatness
of one used to single plank of bed
- and still she senses snoring
though - pricked and pricked
and bled well out
for daring to return alone -

dessicated skin of dust
damp carpet molded out to fust
charmed words so oft repeated
tapped and bottled
- made of rooms where memory lay

while bending to catch a scent of rose
she feels a hand upon her waist
- now flat-backed - spread wide apart
at the ghostly ceiling staring -
- sapped of strength - no hand lays upon
for all is kept at broach-pin length

'grand-mama' she whispers -
in her mind and hears -
returned - carousel reply - as
up and down the children ride
and wave to her beyond the fence

#poem #poetry #amwriting for ashraf fayadh

for Ashraf Fayadh

1

but what of god?
the magi and the zealots pause
shocked to hear that word
those three letters
which when reversed makes curs of both

and both swell their breast
for there is no answer
neither through the magic of the vessel
or the certain rejection of the air

but god is not the subject here

2

how quiet the space of the cell
walled in by the cries of others

and how solid these walls
built with bricks of pride

did you really think yourself free
to declare words are great

and douse them in the petrol of tears

3

but what of the revelation
that drove you to recite
without he prompt of angels
pressing down on your windpipe

4

but what of the hypocrisy of god?

that on the one hand weeps for a forlorn poet
and on the other imprisons them into the mass

that speaks through click-bait

that openly lies for supposedly the best of reasons
and then condemns for the basest of motives

5

you speak of bread
but perhaps not the cheap white wine
clutched stems held in manicured fingers

the chatter rising as you draw near

your words forgotten
more sooner than you can bare

6

but you are already dead

and though some may flinch in compassion
at each lash

will you dare again speak truth?

7

and where is god?

I can see him

in the anger and the baseness of your image
and the rising and the cadence of your words
in the passion of your sentence

but he will not be there in the full stop of you

8

did you not know?

where is god?