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One Man’s Meat
About the Book:
This is a potpourri of ‘sort-of-poems’ written in England, South Wales and Spain; they vary from the turgid to the torrid!
England: Deal with trauma of divorce/loss of family to Ireland! Putting thoughts in poem form clears the mind of turmoil. e.g ‘Never Ask’
Eventually became more diverse/idealistic e.g. ‘This woman’ ‘In Nature’.
South Wales: After turmoil again of early poems, they are made more light hearted, give a flavour of South Wales. Again diversions ‘Lines for Christine’ and my fav ‘Purest Marble’.
Spain: Straight away more at home! Poems, I hope show the nature etc of village of Bedar in mountainous e.g. ‘Guardians of Bedar’ ‘Old Man of Bedar’ etc.
There are two exceptions ‘Dear Father/Twins’ which may often be misinterpreted.
So many times I've woken, having seen
Or sensed a distant pale and pleading face,
Look lost and longing for a loving sign,
Fade, agonising, in sad seas of mist.
Before my twisting thoughts can riot run
The name unleashes from my open heart,
To sound, repeating loudly from my lips.
In this stark silence can my voice be heard?
So many times at daybreak on the road,
With skies so bleak or even azure blue,
Before the strange horizons can take hold
Enveloping emotions grasp command.
The time, the long and latent loneliness
Will lash, the place its baleful beauty use
To tear the constant name from deep within
My bowels, to sound again from robot lips.
So many times pretentious working days
Will hold and guide, with subtle logic sway,
My guileless mind to easy escapism,
Where soon, with reassurance gained it drifts,
To dwell without forewarning in its dreams,
To slip away, beyond and back, to search.
The unlost name arises from my soul,
To spring and echo from my helpless lips.
So many times I've walked through naked trees,
The cold wind cutting, cleaving canker deep
Embedded in my mind to leave it clean.
Or felt the reborn sun through webs of green
Massage and ease and tease the pains away,
To free my spirit from its leaden load.
But still from new-found freedom echoes fresh
Resound that restive name from captive lips.
So many times in senseless surging throngs,
When now alone and not without unease,
A passing slender seeming sylphlike shape
Has caught my eye, to fade in clustering crowds.
Or on a windswept corner framed by beams
Of hazy setting suns I've seen a face,
With eyes that trembled tearful with dismay
As if a future fate they'd briefly glimpsed.
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