De[con]struction
(1945 AD)
daylight regenerates
a stuttering roar
noise bursting into life
ladders and supplies
rise from earth to sky
loud voices verbal angels
barn dance on raw rafters
uncovering hidden layers
replacing worn-out tiles
ascending descending
Jacob wrestling with
his heavenly burden
no crows on patrol
cats long gone to ground
chaos and commotion
leave taking
a ritual shaking
rough tarry hands
a brave new world
rebuilt by three
not so wise men
less than three days
Entrenched
(1914-1918 AD)
scars will close
but never go away
wounds so deep
blood just wants out
pop went the weasel
so many good men
lost in the lost and found
never to be seen again
gone over the top
bayonets fixed hanging
on the old barbed wire
turned into rags and flags
rattle of bones
bone-shaker the wind
mud-filled potholes
frozen at night
wandering shells
lullabies of strife
rage against friends
dug out early from life
Palsy
(1817 AD)
starts with a twist
a palsied twitch a nod
more movement
slow loss of grip
bottle-tops won’t open
things fall to the floor
twist and twitch
turn into shakes
bad vibes not good
words tripping
on not off tongue
stumbling over teeth
vitality extinguished
a dullness in the eyes
a cork-screw turning in
bland the writing
both erased
chalkboard and page
dry honey tunnels
yellow calcined skull
empty hexagonal cells
this lone bee searching
for a special something
it can no longer find
Paradise Lost
(1667 AD)
nobody answers
bewitched by your knock
ultimate betrayal
front door locked
cold finger elegies
devils ascending
rhythmic drumming
rain descending
knock again louder
nobody’s replies
ahoy there the house
nobody’s inside
memories flutter
life’s dead butterflies
doorstep-marooned
look around take stock
ghosts watch from windows
sockets open in shock
that key in your pocket
might open the lock
a mystical place
between heaven and earth
land of my fathers
house of my birth
Ogmore-by-Sea
(1960 AD)
white stone its castle
tumbled into ruin
stones in the river bed
mirrored its image
wind-broken ripples
picture fragmented
mud flats and rocks
stretch out horizontal
distant the sea
Severn mud an obstacle
no swimmers out there
where tides twist and pull
rock bathing instead
wind-whipped bare bodies
blasted with sand
skimpy the clothing
bikinis and pants
intrepid the wearers
breathless young girls
Welsh voices on the wind
always the wind
across rock across mud
dinosaurs walked here
left tracks in that mud
metamorphosed now
into fossil and rock
breeze tickles the nostrils
gulls batter the ears
salt stings the tongue
life on the margin
a bargain a gift
sweet in my memory
her kiss on my lips
Comment: I have no pictures of Ogmore (except in my mind). You’ll have to make do with St. Andrews, also by the sea. My thanks go out to David Watts for reminding me of my childhood in Wales. So many memories came twitching back. I went regularly to Ogmore with one of my school friends and his family. This was while I was still in the sixth form in school … a long time ago … but I remember it well.
Tara Pine
(1770 / 1977 AD)
maritime jack pine
arm-waving
declamation
sonnet to wild growth
a wilderness now
lop-sided
forest church
spired with birds
crows’s nest
crowning savage
extravagance
radical disorder
flustered
clicking needles
clustered
knitting the wind
salted the air
old man’s beard
sprouting fresh bristles
old salt sea salt
“ill fares the land
to hastening ills a prey”
without a helping hand
to point the way
each broken limb
an olive branch extended
scorched earth policy
salt-sown earth
Nightmares
(1797 AD)
coming from nowhere
plucked from nothing
colored vowels
a child’s first alphabet
dark recesses
descending
invading
night’s starless
unenlightened mind
silent owls
flit in and out
predatory beaks
claws clutching
calling for skull
doors to open
sticky silk
this spider-spun
substance clutches
clings like plastic
gluing eyelids
shadowy lives
dance on walls
night’s drugged
dream cave
endless the gangplank
stretched over
troubled waters
reason’s dream
producing monsters
until dawn brings
its swift release
Copperopolis
(1717 / 1804)
mountains of the moon
lunar landscapes
lunatic fringes
mercury madness
running through brains
scabs picked
wounds running raw
skin blotched red
eyes blurred
twitching
wait a hundred years
grass might grow back
earth might give flowers
bay waters might flow free
my grandfather coughs
his lungs up
bit by bit
he’ll never again know
the scent of flowers
taste oysters from the bay
smell sea-fresh air
Dark Night
(1577-1579 AD)
candlelight
stole the moon’s halo
moth sputtering to its death
this owl high-flying
a cat tears out
mouthfuls of hair
swallows
spits out a hairball
swallows
steal it for a nest
dish and spoon
dance
cats and dogs
rain golden
milky the way
earth’s
thirst is quenched
blind hands
deaf fingers
no longer deft
voices breaking
waves
an unstrung
guitar of sound
fire will one day
come to claim us all
Eight Deer
(1113 AD)
eight deer visit
my garden each night
they raid my feeders
capture my birdseed
lusting for gold
anything to keep out
this winter cold
raccoons
leave claw-marks
grubbing for grubs
dug up like donuts
circled on my lawn
who captures whom
when the full moon
descends from the sky
walks among men
making them mad
death by snow plow
snow-melt and crows
Eight Deer emerges
his sacrificed body
preserved on this page
and in salt snow
rogermoorepoet 