David Subacchi.Welsh Poetry (Remove filter)
EQUAL IN GREATNESS
(For Michael Collins – Astronaut 1930-2021)
The fourth person to spacewalk
And the second
To orbit the moon alone
While fellow crew members
Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong
Walked on the lunar surface
Sometimes glory is shared unevenly
But greatness often depends
On those backstage
Silently pulling levers
And watching instruments
Thursday 6th May 2021 11:36 am
LOVE IN A LOCKDOWN
Love in a lockdown intense and obsessed
Anxious at first then gradually stronger,
Fighting back fear, wondering how much longer,
Love in a lockdown unstable, undressed.
Love in a lockdown longs to be released
Makes resolutions, wants to try harder,
Yearning for freedom to travel further,
Love in a lockdown confined and compressed.
Saturday 9th January 2021 4:59 pm
DEATH OF NELSON
(Benjamin West 1738-1820 – Walker Gallery, Liverpool)
Some think victory complete
Raising hats celebrating,
But others huddled solemnly
Around the pale figure
Know death is waiting,
That he only lingers awhile
To say farewell and to savour
A little of the triumph.
In the background a confusion
Of sails and streaming signal...
Saturday 8th April 2017 5:08 pm
A QUIET ANCHORAGE
Out there she floats where usually
Only small craft are seen
And the odd dolphin.
A monster of a merchant ship
Modern, business like
No sign of a mast
Carrying cars to Dublin
According to the local paper
Waiting for a berth.
Meanwhile she has found
A quiet anchorage;
We stare through binoculars.
Wednesday 16th November 2016 6:06 pm
Experts say if the stones remain
What was within can be restored,
But they make bombs now
That can penetrate
The strongest cover;
Expensive but occasionally
They use them.
And lives destroyed
Cannot be recreated
By mechanical diggers,
Architects or builders;
Only silent museums
Filled with the debris
Sunday 9th October 2016 7:15 pm
A WELSHMAN IN CROATIA
In Croatian the word for three is tri
Just as it is in the Welsh language.
It is tre in Italian and trois in French
And in Spanish it is tres,
But the Croatians have got it right
Although all their other numbers
Are quite different in Welsh.
Here in the summer Dubrovnik sunshine
There is time to wonder about such things
Tuesday 21st June 2016 12:14 am
On tail lights.
Soon we descend
Veiled in mist,
On the radio.
Monday 16th May 2016 9:41 pm
THE ROYAL CHARTER
(Wrecked off Moelfre, Anglesey 1859)
From Melbourne to Liverpool bound
in less than fifty eight days, by sail
and steam the Royal Charter comes
via Queenstown in Ireland and around
the Skerries with cargo of wool and hides
weighted with golden dust and coins
from fortunes made in a far off land.
To Moelfre’s razor rocks on Anglesey coast
Thursday 28th April 2016 1:09 pm
WHERE IS WALES
Where is Wales in this library
Between wooden shelves
Or sitting obediently
With more confident
Is she leather bound
Or plastic covered.
Is she hiding quietly
In the reference section
Playing with phones
Holding chewing gum
Or is she at the de...
Monday 29th February 2016 10:59 pm
you would walk us
to the newsagent
in your Sunday best
As you chatted
over the papers
with News of the World
we each chose a gift.
Thursday 17th December 2015 10:42 am
Not the TV host with a brazen giggle
Winding up the gormless on ‘Blind Date’
Or tugging tears on ‘Surprise Surprise’
Nor the glittering star, clutching champagne
In morose interviews after Bobby’s death
Her grief bubbling up
Pressing behind aching eyes
But the fragile, stick thin girl
Trembling on stage
Warmed only by a single
And cruel spotlight
Picking out every contour
Sunday 2nd August 2015 10:19 pm
HEART OF WALES
Early morning leisure centre
Fresh from the pool
Hospital doctors huddle
Discussing surgical problems
And financial investments
A receptionist smiles
To disclose the code
For free Wi-Fi. She says
It is for staff only
I buy a cup of tea
After ringing a brass bell
To summon service
Feel time pumping slowly
Through the heart of Wales.
Monday 8th June 2015 6:14 pm
This is a chisel of precise age unknown
With handle smoother than the skin
Of a child. I have sharpened the blade
By rubbing it on stone. Feel its bite.
This is a wood plane given to me
By an old man who had it
From his father. Their spirits guide
My hands. Feel its weight.
This is a machine I bought myself
Under its skin of shiny plastic
Wednesday 11th March 2015 10:37 am