Poetry Corner

[Gavin Luper]

Thanks Gavin, and yes, your correction was, er, correct. I find the more I try and think about writing, the less I get done. Last night, after quite an emotionally heavy weekend previously, I just put everything down on paper.

But even though I drew on some personal experience, the poem was meant to look generally at relationships, their destructive and exhaustive power. Particularly when someone who has been 'the other man' suddenly realises their partner is cheating. A sort of role-reversal.

Really appreciate the feedback

Good to get the full picture of where you were taking it man. Your poetry is always quite inspiring and clever, so it's a pleasure to read.

Ai

A soul seeking it…
A million more craving it…
But no one gives it!

This feels like some kind of ineffable universal need or conundrum. But what is it, out of interest, Louis?

My Second Body

How else might I convince you
except to fix my lungs upon a pin?
Perhaps I need to bleach my bones, jar tendon,
or splay my nerves against a screen
and let you map their blue fragility?
Dear skeptic, I can lend you nothing
more than all of it: my knees,
their pocked exteriors,
my cheeks, my pores and frigid palms.
You will measure and do tests,
scouring my flesh with chemicals
to learn its every end and limit.
Even after all of this, you'll still deem it necessary
to hold in your studious hands
my breasts, those which
you struggle most to validate.
Really, all that you require
lies below my chest, beneath it.
Press your beating wrist
against my muscled heart.
Let the rhythms unify.
Then syncopate. Then unify again.
Bear witness to that pear-shaped thing,
that pump. Then, feel yours. Hold onto it.
Maybe now, knowing
my authentic body,
you’ll never again ask,
“What kind of a

are you?”

Wow, man, your poetry always hits something deep inside ... This piece, I feel, could be even shorter and be more effective and resonant, but the images that you have included are just breathtaking. Those splayed nerves and their blue fragility. Whoa. Nice work.

[Oslo]

Wow, man, your poetry always hits something deep inside ... This piece, I feel, could be even shorter and be more effective and resonant, but the images that you have included are just breathtaking. Those splayed nerves and their blue fragility. Whoa. Nice work.

Thanks! I definitely agree that less is often more, so I like the idea of trimming the fat with this particular poem. What lines specifically do you think I perhaps could/should excise? I'm thinking lines 6 to 9 could be removed and the poem would still hold together effectively. The ending also reads kind of baggy now that I think about it.

[Chris 2.1]

To Teo,

Crew neck, smart tie,
Staring at your eyes I can't help but wonder why
You pulled me, from dirt,
Onto a pretty platform just to let me get hurt.

[Gavin Luper]

Thanks! I definitely agree that less is often more, so I like the idea of trimming the fat with this particular poem. What lines specifically do you think I perhaps could/should excise? I'm thinking lines 6 to 9 could be removed and the poem would still hold together effectively. The ending also reads kind of baggy now that I think about it.

Sorry mate - I totally missed this earlier. Upon rereading, I agree that lines 6 to 9 are actually weaker links in the chain compared to the rest of the poem. In fact, I would even suggest taking out line 10, too, and maybe going straight into "You will scour ..." - it's a bit more image-centric like the rest of the lines. I'm still not sure which lines near the end need to be edited out but I do still feel that it's overlong; it would be significantly more powerful, I reckon, if that ending was condensed by several lines. Maybe experiment with it and see what you could do without? Good luck if you do decide to do that.

Chris: Nice work as always with that latest snippet. It almost feels like it could be an alternative rock lyric, that one ... it's razor-sharp and full of pain and impact. Well done.

[Shadow Wolf]

This feels like some kind of ineffable universal need or conundrum. But what is it, out of interest, Louis?

Ah, long time! XD Sorry for taking so long. Anyway, "Ai" is actually the phonetic pronunciation of the Japanese symbol "愛", which means "love". ^_^

Well, it's been quite some time since I wrote something (I'm probably rusty, hahaha). I did, however, write a Spanish poem to someone I like. I'll be sure to translate it.

Solo para ti - Soneto (Only for you - sonnet)

El corazón me susurra al oído
Las alegrías que en ti ha encontrado
Y te agradece que lo hayas vestido
con el amor que por siempre ha anhelado

(The heart whispers all the happiness found with you into my ear
and it is thankful that you have dressed it with the love he always craved for)

Mis pensamientos atraen tu ternura
mientras ofrecen su gran bienvenida
para brindarte cariño y dulzura,
al recordarte que eres mi vida.

(My thoughts attract your tenderness as they offer their warmest welcome
to give you love and sweetness while they remind you that you are my life.)

Ya que controlas su ardor y su anhelo,
mi cuerpo vibra en intensa pasión
mientras desea tu encanto y calor.

(Since you control its hotness and its desire, my body trembles in intense passion as it longs for your charm and your warmth.)

Hasta mis sueños son tuyos, mi cielo
Gracias por ser mi mayor bendición
Toda mi vida es tuya mi amor.

(Even my dreams are yours my dear. Thanks for being my greatest blessing. All my life is yours my love).

Yeah... corny... I know, hehehe.

EDIT: and the other side of the coin, an unedited, unstructured, unhappy piece.

Shi

No more time...
time has stopped...
same old room...
same un-bloom...

Stuck in the virtual world...
afraid of the outside world...
staying in the comfort zone...
and giving up hopes.

Though a miracle would happen...
nothing happened at all...
still stuck as a no one
Still hopeless and broke.

Time is frozen in this room
as time moves faster in the outside world
He has been left behind
He has just stayed behind.

Parents lost hope in their son
Brother calls him a parasite
Friends can't change his world
And he's left like a worthless stone

He tried stretching his hand for help
But he didn't stretch it enough
Since before the hand reached halfway
He'd already given up.

And now as he lays in his frozen world
where only this screen and his hands move
He write these words with no exact purpose
Except to prevent a depressing flood.

And after this, he knows nothing will change
Because no one hears his mute cries for help
And thus he returns to his frozen world
Where he expects nothing but darkness alone

No more time...
Time has stopped...
same old room...
same hope doomed.

[Chris 2.1]

Moth and Flame

You and I, bright like fireflies,
Gliding towards a warming light
It's suicide,
yet feels so right.
Anything can, when by your side.

You and I, relaxed enough to cry,
Swimming in diamonds late at night.
No lead, no guide,
But heart and plight.
Immersed ourselves, so late at night.

I Wonder why we're both outside,
When, once, inside once looked inviting.
Kingdom empty, darkened lamp,
Tears extinguish flame to damp.

Even in our wildest moments,
You made waves like crescent moons.
Even in our still and slumber,
Ripples formed like hearts on water.

[Oslo]

Strays in the Thaw

Perhaps I know why you stare
at their bodies, slight and almost lovely
after sunless months
in winter’s jar. I touch a soiled glove
to your hand, drape my gaze
like a pocketless shroud
over their crumpled repose.
I picture them at mewling defeat,
huddled for warmth that could not come

in time. With collar turned to snap of
March, I suggest we get back
to the yard work—our epidemic in
chickweed, branches, dead leaves
that hide dead bodies.
I repeat what I said on a horrible day
in a horrible room:
that passing isn’t more
than a rocking Sunday hammock. (All cock and bull.)

At night, as sleep takes me, so you take
the cavernous station wagon
down to the lake and the waterfront cottage
where once you dwelled as a girl. By darkness
you slink to the foaming shore and hunt
for the hidden slabs of shale
on which you scratched your life’s first secrets:
your hatred for recitals, the pink-eared boy
whose eyes you longed to kiss

and the names you planned to give your babies.
You frantically turn rock, split thicket,
but every piece of shale is mute
by damning touch of water.
You feel each misplaced name
wrested always out of you, the precise ache,
those slanted slackened mouths
as voiceless as the swells of fur
we threw to our heap of compost.

Then you tell me this months later
as you spit up red swallows of ice wine. I don’t ask
but still wonder about your trip home
after the search, about the way you toiled
back into our bed that cool spring night.
Did you curl up against my sleeping body?
Or did you roll away, fighting
the instinct that whispers us still
when the time at last has come to huddle?

[Chris 2.1]

The Open Letter

Dear you,
Thank you for the letter.
I'm surprised you found the time
to pick up paper, to click a pen
But I remember: tightening the screws
and hammering the nails
of your desk that summer
was no mean feat. I imagine you, finally sitting at it.
Staring across your garden, at the lame fox basking in the sun.
It was worth it.

The greatest love of all is loving yourself.
But often being half of a whole gets in the way.
Sometimes, when I walk through the market on the weekend
I see people together, wandering, smiling.
Never rushed, anxious or flummoxed.
But relaxed, happy - smiles that require no exertion.
When I'm truly alone, it feels like everyone's lives are like that.

But a wonderfully useful insight
is that into the lives of others.
Couples that fit like clockwork
Don't always click.
And sometimes I feel fortunate to have all my thoughts to myself
All my money, to myself
and my love.
The second wave of enlightenment is that
happiness can feel like a currency
in a foreign land.

So imagine my surprise, enlightened though I am
to find a beautiful, gilded invitation
to a wedding.
You did it.
In 2009, when you took Suzie to New York
I knew, then, what was going through your mind
because we clicked like clockwork.
And when she said no, my heart soared.
It wasn't meant to be, Lee.

I feel honoured to be invited,
though understandably I have no guest.
Laterally, as I gently wrap the ribbon from your invite around my ring finger
I realise that, too, is a stealthy gift.
What would Suzie say to two men, dapper though they would no doubt be
wishing you both well?
She'd put two and two
- or me and you -
together,
on her happiest day.

Like a dirty talisman
I've carried the invite,
that thick, decorative invite,
with me everywhere I go.
It sits awkwardly in my pocket on the bus
and I even held onto it
during a meeting about sustainability.

Thank you,
from the bottom of my heart
for inviting me to your wedding.
The idea that you're comfortable
enough to see me again
after all this time
makes me feel validated, and accepted.
Maybe I'll finally introduce myself to Suzie.
Maybe we'll get on, like a house on fire.
She looks utterly charming,
and beautiful too.

Unfortunately,
I will have to decline your invitation.

It took some time
to figure out why.
Time spent nursing blistering cups of coffee
in the sun.
And carrying your invitation
to make me understand.

In November, your life will change once more.
And you will ask your wife to dance.
Steadily, as you move across the floor
She will spin, and you will steer.
Your family will join you, the floor will fill with friends
And as you hold your wife, you will see the special people in your life.
In my head, there's perhaps a gap in the crowd.
Or maybe when you see Sophie and James, you'll feel my absence
but you need to feel it.
Not seeing me there will give you that same sense of understanding I felt
carrying your invitation everywhere.
I can't watch you get married.
Because it will cement, once and for all
my worst fear.
That you'll never, ever
come back to me.

[Mikachu Yukitatsu]

Should she have spoken to me less nicely
Should she have spoken to me more freely
Should I have asked if she had someone
Should I have asked her to be mine earlier

Nobody had answered to my glance
Like she did with those eyes
Nobody had presented me homework to solve
Like she entrusted me

I sat behind her and followed the class
I could watch her hair for eternity
Did I get that integral solved
Yes, I solved it for her

Ten years have passed
Since those days full of excitement
I don't blame her for anything
She gave me all I needed
With those questions and answers
Even after it turned out she had someone

Time is nigh
Time is nigh
To save the past

For I never doubted that
The idea of her virginity
Never died inside me

Returning of the miracles
Red-haired beauty reborn
Restored my ability to cry again

The note that I threw on her table
Returned once but not twice

Just once more I got to sit near her
Just once more she asked me to help
The idea of her virginity
Never died inside me

[Mikachu Yukitatsu]

These lyrics are actually a statement towards what Päivi Räsänen said about alternative medicine.

Questioned Millennia

Who is to judge what you can't see
Still you can't question what you learned at school
Exposed to our religions we march where we're told to
Proudly because we think we're free

What you believe is another person's fantasy
What you trust in is another person's deceit
Slaves of one's science
That's what one's thoughts are

There's one disease that you cannot heal
In human brain lies knowledge that may turn false one day
Centuries we believed in science
Millennia we believed in gods

Tradition tells spirits can heal you
Evidence tells you can't prove if they exist
Present religion questioned the past one
Present science questioned religion

Ancient philosophies bow before renewed masters
Masters of atoms masters of galaxies
Where is Heaven where is Hell
Where are the gods if you can prove black holes