John Darwin

September

Wednesday 19th October 2011 9:53 pm (first posted Wednesday 12th October 2011 8:22 pm)

Nestled, snug,

between a breast of hills,

the crabbers' grave is tranquilised by distance

and my happy pills;

I spent all summer working,

sorting corn ears from the chaff,

awaiting your awakening,

your tickled-pink half belly laugh

your shades of independence

and your poor drinking capacity,

compared to hardened lushes;

I crush a dimp between my thumb

and my calloused, gnarled forefinger

and muse if we were young and unencumbered

that each fold and crease of your skin

was impression made by mine

and no-one else's.

You nose your head into a book

and toss your ghostly mane,

boderline leonine,

bespectacled and pondering;

I curse the laws of nature that force riverflow one way

and your blood courses likewise

by gravity or tide

in that picture of felicity

of you grinning, side by side;

In a water-sun September

in heat-stretched skin and bone,

you gaze from book to crabbers' grave

and your look says;

we're born and die alone

Previous: Palace of Shyness

Next: Dawn in Galata

Comments

Augusta Darling

Mon 17th Oct 2011 11:37

First class John !
Superb
Augusta x

Lynn Dye

Sun 16th Oct 2011 16:28

I also enjoyed this very much, John. Well written.

Laura Taylor

Fri 14th Oct 2011 11:10

Agree with the others, a totally original piece of work with some amazing lines in it...borderline leonine is one of my favourites. Can sympathise...I am also surrounded by people with poor drinking capacities. Can't take Bob anywhere, he gets mashed on one glass of red,for shame.

Marianne Louise Daniels

Fri 14th Oct 2011 09:07

Remarkable. Had the same reaction as Dave Carr. Don't know what to do with myself now...

Ann Foxglove

Fri 14th Oct 2011 00:14

It is indeed haunting, moving,etc. Agree with all that others have said.

ray miller

Thu 13th Oct 2011 23:43

Good poem, John, though I think I prefer the 1st half to the 2nd. The opening gives the impression of a regular rhyme pattern which doesn't materialise, but that's fine.
A lot of semi-colons! I'd do this here

compared to hardened lushes....

"colloused gnarled" is cumbersome - isn't it calloused?

I curse the laws of nature that force riverflow one way

and your blood courses likewise

likewise or contrariwise?

Francine

Thu 13th Oct 2011 22:53

You capture feelings of longing and remembrance so well with superb imagery! I thoroughly enjoyed reading this several times - absolutely fantastic, John!

Rachel Bond

Thu 13th Oct 2011 20:14

this is best thing ive read in ages john x

Isobel

Thu 13th Oct 2011 14:35

When we are born we are wrapped in love and when we die also, from my experience anyway - though I suppose some are not so lucky. The journey inbetween can at times be a lonely one though...

You express yourself in such an original way. Your words are haunting.

winston plowes

Thu 13th Oct 2011 14:12

Hi John. Brilliant! top drawer darwin classic this one.

great pace and puch at the end. I can hear you reading it john.

Win

Greg Freeman

Thu 13th Oct 2011 13:28

"Tickled pink half belly laugh" is a fabulous line, John

Elaine Booth

Wed 12th Oct 2011 22:39

John, very much appreciated this fine poem of yours. I found very touching, and so true of this experience, these lines:
"that each fold and crease of your skin
was impression made by mine
and no-one else's."
Thanks for posting this.

M.C. Newberry

Wed 12th Oct 2011 21:11

Evocative...reaching for the stars. This is
memorable.
M.C.

Dave Carr

Wed 12th Oct 2011 20:43

Just sat and stared at this for a while.
Wonderful!
Dave

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