The lifeline in her hand

For the second time since his leaving
The moon is almost full
Splendour of the night suspended
Above the winter world
For him her face is upside-down
A child stood on her hands
Smiling
Where steam lifts off the land by day
On equatorial line
Now finally the wait is done
The lifeline in her hand
Precious as a baby
First letter from her son

27th February 2010, Hounoux, for Jude with love of course

Hyancinths

Hyacinths

Unkempt in the shallow pot
They lurch for the light
In wayward growth
No prizes for these heavy-headed blooms
On crutches for their weakness
Poor specimens her husband sighs
Ashamed for his neglect
But she bends to breathe them in
And on a dull day, cold day, disheartening
Her senses fill
And spring, she sees, is here

February 26th 2010, Hounoux

Balanced on the brink

Balanced on the brink

Down the listening line I flinch
As well I might
Your dark brown voice
Still full of pain
I sent you

Tiptoe on eggshells
I’m striving for repair
What to say
To mend the pain
I sent you

At first no words
Then pouring in a rush
I hear my anxious tone
The love between us teetering
Balanced on the brink

Now all my life
In gratitude
The sweet relief I feel
That you would choose forgiveness
And so our world endures

February 25th 2010, Hounoux, for D I, with love

Words

Words

Sticks and stones the children chant
To ward off verbal taunts
No power to hurt the rain of words
Or torrent of abuse
Too young to know the wondrous truth
That language conquers all
You take your brush or pencil stroke
And conjure magic art
Create from nothing beauty
To lift my human heart
But I’ll select from other tints
A palette of all hues
And mix and juxtapose
String a sentence, choose a verb
Harsh consonant or soft
Lovely lilting, plosive pop
Or hiss of sibilants
The poet’s art has music euphony discord
Plus colour bold or wan
From tip of pen the stanzas flow
In every shade of mood
For words can sting and hurt, destroy
Together rage and roar
Or paint a water colour wash
A soaring symphony
Can soothe and comfort empathise
Communicating love
Or sing a song of praise and joy
For blessed poet’s art

23rd February 2010, Hounoux

For you, my friend

For you, my friend

Drop by drop the sorrow seeps
Filling every crack
Heart and head and leaden limbs
Underwater, drowned
Cold as glass in silent stillness
All colour leeched and thin
Full weight of fathoms down
No rage, rage
Or healing tears, at dying of the light
No keening loud and long
Just wordless grief
O’erwhelming
Too far beyond the sun

21st February 2010, for P M with love

February Fugue

February Fugue

The hours and days drop leaden
Sunless the slothful weeks
A life in neutral, idling
Grey and frozen time
No snowdrop shoots of spring
Nor birds in hopeful song
Just quiet you and me beside the fire
And too much inward dwelling, thoughts
Heavy on the heart

The woeful lines
All blessings quite forgot
Squat shameful on the page
Am I not warmed at click of switch
And loved in words and deeds
In texts and emails frequent calls
From friends across the globe
Fortunate in health and wealth
Far beyond all basic needs
To excess and to greed

From hibernating dark today
Sweet scented hyacinths
How welcome, lovely sight
But best of all my Gabriel Oak, I know,
Whenever I look up, there
Quiet you and me beside the fire
You in constancy

February 2010, Hounoux

A World Apart

A World Apart

The poet Blake set down his rage
At sight of song bird in a cage
Imagine if he'd seen your form
Modest movements here the norm
From head to toe enrobed in black
Your shapeless shuffling airless sack
All your world confined to this
Not to know or feel the bliss
Of sun and wind upon your face
To spread your limbs and whirl in space
To love your body and be proud
To sing and dance and shout out loud
Instead for you by male decree
Your eyes behind a grill to see
Lest lustful thoughts should be inflamed
Your wings are clipped you're cribbed and tamed
And like the poet I would rage
And weep for you behind your cage
For still we share a woman's heart
My sister from a world apart

9th February 2010, Gulf Air flight Bahrain to London

No more perfect picture

No more perfect picture

Cooled by the fan that clacks beneath the tin roof
Of Catherine's verandah, hot pink -washed
We savour her special spicy Goan fish curry
With curd and naan bread
She is quiet, smiling in her cotton floral frock

Now we must find our way back through the deepest dark
Insect noisy, by the still lagoon
Look up, you point- and all the stars are bright
Betelgeuse, Rigel, Mars, the Heavenly twins you indicate
And overhead Orion with the diamonds in his belt
His sword poised
Then just below, in shadow show, cut-out silhouettes
The spindly drunken-leaning, skyward
Coconut distinctive palms
No more perfect picture possible
I think
And fold the memory carefully, treasure
One distant day a solace for my soul

6th February 2010, Hotel Aligoa, Betelbartim Beach, Goa, for the Star-guide with love

Along the Goan shore

Along the Goan shore

All along the shoreline

On finest ocean sand

The pallid foreign bodies

Stretched for tanning in the sun

The sea before us delicate in water colour wash

Fawn and yellow aqua green,

Till blue black inked

Fine brushwork, far horizon line

Swoosh of low waves rolling

Rhythmic, salt upon our skins

Pulsing beat of Western music

Mingled with the Goan drums

Back and forth on bicycle

The ice-cream vending boy

Now the urgent cries of fishermen

Together hauling nets

Two small catfish, not a living

Here in paradise, imperfect

Along the Goan shore

6th February 2010, on Betelbatim beach, S Goa, for Jude who should be here

Goan Blue

Goan Blue

Up to his knees in marshland
On the water's edge
The lonely bullock stands
Lugubrious, munching
Part of the landscape
His black bulk
By the lush lagoon

Quicker in the shallows
Wading on stick legs
White egrets dart and bob
Busy question marks
And watchful overhead
Frilly wings outstretched
Kites gliding in the blue

February 4th 2010, Betelbatim beach, Goa

Halfway up the Sky

Halfway up the sky

Halfway up the sky
Above the paddy fields
Where frogs croak noisily and plop
Between the coconut palms
Tall in silhouette
An orange moon is hung
Hot Goan summer night

The heat is thick and breathless
Although the sun's long dipped
Scarlet yellow shocking pink
Sudden flowers splash
And from the ocean rhythmic
The shush of lullaby
Hot Goan summer night

February 2nd 2010 Alagoa hotel, Goa

Hands in Friendship Held

Hands in Friendship Held

This land, in spite of language
Long ago imposed, and now entirely yours
Gone native, is like the past
Another place where difference is the rule
Exotic foreign otherwise
And so for us who visit
Adjusting can be hard
The many daily culture shocks
A puzzle, bringing stress
But also sudden, bolt from blue
A rush of sheer delight
As gorgeous perfumed jasmine flowers
Are pinned, with love, to deck our hair
Or taste of local cooking
Taught by mother carefully to daughter
Our tradition you say proudly
Like your culture ancient with deep roots
But most of all the gift you give
Of friendship from the heart
Untainted still and pure
Sophistication not yet come
To village Indian life
So love declared with smiles
And hugs, and hands in friendship held
All ages mixed no shame
No need for ‘cool’
We take a trip to earlier times
A voyage to the past
Before modernity was born
An age of innocence
And blessed we are time-traveling thus
A world away, enchanted in this land

1st February 2010, en route Bangalore to Goa, for my fellow travelers, B, P, M and A