Entries Tagged 'poems' ↓

Bye For Now

Your repeated use of the phrase
at the end of emails
convinced me that we had a future
until I noticed that BBC
news readers and weather reporters
say it to sign themselves off
secure in the knowledge
that some percentage of the population
will still be there later on
even for the World Weatherview
at one o’clock in the morning
even if they’re dead in their armchairs
waiting to be discovered by the neighbours.

– Lorraine Mariner

Where Everything Is Music

Where Everything Is Music

Don’t worry about saving these songs!
And if one of our instruments breaks,
it doesn’t matter.

We have fallen into the place
where everything is music.

The strumming and the flute notes
rise into the atmosphere,
and even if the whole world’s harp
should burn up, there will still be
hidden instruments playing.

So the candle flickers and goes out.
We have a piece of flint, and a spark.

This singing art is sea foam.
The graceful movements come from a pearl
somewhere on the ocean floor.

Poems reach up like spindrift and the edge
of driftwood along the beach, wanting!

They derive
from a slow and powerful root
that we can’t see.

Stop the words now.
Open the window in the centre of your chest,
and let the spirits fly in and out.


And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass

Ezra Pound

the point

The point, I imagine is
Not to learn to expect
betrayal, self-deceit, lies
however thick they collect
in the cul-de-sac of one’s days,
half-noticed, half-numbered, half-checked;
but rather to learn to praise
fidelity, trust and love
which in their modest ways
continue to be and move
(however mocked, however derided
however difficult, indeed to prove),
utterly undivided-
if inarticulate or mute,
still mortally decided.

Neither fashionable nor astute
This point to take to heart:
Merely final and absolute;

Without it no people, no life, no art

Evan Jones, 1931