All posts filed under: Poetry

“Colour” and Other Poems by Paul Casey

Colour for T.S.Eliot and after fourteen poets The purple stole away from the skins of plums Everywhere we turned became a maze of colour I protect you with an indigo coloured whisper You curve the ends of my black and white day Coffee brown, is mole, dying leaves, dry earth But smell led me here, the smell of yellow The blue, white and red stripes of exotic confusion Moving over the green gravel of a formal grave I wet my lips and a blackbird flies out of my mouth Faces in the front row, silvered in screenlight, focus I thought everyone knew what was meant by sugar-paper blue Tyrian dyes and flax and peacock plumes Gold and yellow where the clouds crack and break away Anemone-blue mountains outlined against the pearl-grey morning Colour was first published in Live Encounters Fishapod out of Watercolour The Spring sea arrives in flailing sage, clutches lime-white soles with the early hunger of sand. Seeping, air-bound, caught on the cusp of an inner eclipse I turn to olive water. Nothing …

“Bookmarking The Oasis” and other poems by K. Srilata

Things I didn’t know I loved (after Nazim Hikmet) I didn’t know I loved windows so much but I do – enough to wrestle someone to the ground over them, so light can, once again, flood my eyes. I didn’t know I loved bare feet so much, or walking away on them to wherever point, my heart slung over my shoulder like a sheep-skin bag. I didn’t know I loved small islands of quiet in the middle of the day, but I do – they feel like old friends. I didn’t know I loved the idea of night descending like a tired bird or birds flying in and out of rooms and poems but I do. I didn’t know I loved so many things. Only now that I have read Hikmet, am I setting them free, one by one. from Bookmarking the Oasis(Poetrywala, 2015) Looking for Light, Sunbirds I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being. (Hafiz of Shiraz) Looking for light, sunbirds …

“Cuween Chambered Cairn” and other poems by Tim Miller

Cuween Chambered Cairn   I should go on my hands and knees to you, you farmers from five thousand years ago. Even though your skulls are no longer here or the small skulls of your two dozen dogs, in retrospect I realize how wise I was, dipping in and out of your dark —the familiar main chamber and three rooms— to never pause in all my picture-taking to never stop and extinguish the light to have found you at the end of the day, so that we were tired and a bit rushed. Something like the terror at what went on here would have overwhelmed me in the moment, the seriousness of generations which I only became aware of later: like an ancient fireplace still smudged with smoke, our shoulders were soiled from the gloom on your hands.   Horses on Orkney   Horses curled in the flaming spiral of sleep, the huge immensity of their bodies   belied by the blankets they wear, or the tight scroll they twist themselves into on the ground, …

‘The Mermaid in the Hospital’ by Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill

  She awoke to find her fishtail clean gone but in the bed with her were two long, cold thingammies. You’d have thought they were tangles of kelp or collops of ham.   ‘They’re no doubt taking the piss, it being New Year’s Eve. Half the staff legless with drink and the other half playing pranks. Still, this is taking it a bit far.’ And with that she hurled the two thingammies out of the room.   But here’s the thing she still doesn’t get — why she tumbled out after them arse-over-tip . . . How she was connected to those two thingammies and how they were connected to her.   It was the sister who gave her the wink and let her know what was what. ‘You have one leg attached to you there and another one underneath that. One leg, two legs . . . A-one and a-two . . .   Now you have to learn what they can do.’   In the long months that followed I wonder if her …