Poetry Blogs (2013, David Subacchi)

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ILLUSION

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 ILLUSION

 

 Just for a while

 The feel of summer,

 Fields of sunflowers,

 Light dazzling,

 Heat caressing,

 France not Cheshire

 Kind of summer.

 

 Smell of lusty earth,

 Taste of young wine

 That won't travel,

 Freshness of fruit

 And vegetables,

 Proudly displayed

 On market stalls.

 

 Just for a while

 The illusion of summer,

 Ou...

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David SubacchipoetryWelsh Poetry

BANER GLYNDWR

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BANER GLYNDWR

 

Steel the gauntlet

Sharp the blade

Hot the conflict

Fierce the raid.

 

From the mountains

We came down

Barred their passage

To each town.

 

Fired our arrows

Flung our spears

Red their faces

Bloody tears.

 

Drove them far

From our land

We fought bravely

Hand to hand.

 

Baner Glyndwr

Owain’s flag

Flying now

Fr...

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David Subacchiowain glyndwrWelsh Poetry

EVACUATING HEREFORD

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EVACUATING HEREFORD

From Fir Tree Lane junction and the Straight Mile

Near where World War Two hand grenades were found,

They shut roads and placed a cordon around

So they could make things safe army style;

People were moved out of homes for a while

Taking all their pets, every cat and hound;

As warning cones were put down on the ground,

A real nuisance there was hardl...

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David SubacchiHereford.Poetry

BETWEEN TWO STONES

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 BETWEEN TWO STONES

 

 Horses raced here

 Until the railway

 Cut the field in half

 Between two stones

 And a third

 No longer standing.

 

 The first excavation

 Proved this to be true

 From the clay pipes

 And wine bottles

 Now cleaned

 And catalogued.

 

 More recent surveys

 Using methods

 Geophysical

 Indicated the presence

 Of se...

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AberystwythDavid SubacchipoetryWelsh Poetry

PALM TREES

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  PALM TREES

 

 The palm trees at Alghero

 Are of impressive height and girth

 Their solidity demonstrates confidence;

 Sometimes we touch them

 Hoping to be made strong too.

 

 In their shade we shelter

 From baking sun,

 Under their protection

 Friendships are made

 On sultry August evenings.

 

 Nearby in an ornate church

 Time ticks away in marb...

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David SubacchipoetrySardinia

SONNET FOR ROONEY

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  SONNET FOR ROONEY

 So I gets this call from Gareth Southgate

 And he's laying it on like marmalade,

 Saying come back Rooney you've got it made

 Playing for Everton, O what a state!

 I thought your ambition was to be great!

 England's not a problem don't be afraid,

 At Goodison you'll always make the grade,

 So get those three lions back on you mate.

 

 But I though...

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David Subacchifootballpoetry

BASS GUITAR

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  BASS GUITAR

 

 The bass guitar is not loud enough

 He explained solemnly

 Unless it rattles your cufflinks

 In the back row

 It's not concerned with melody

 Just there to add some body.

 

 That was a long time ago

 In our long hair days

 The next time we met

 His locks had disappeared

 Mine were slowly thinning

 I reminded him of his saying.

 

...

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David Subacchimusicpoetry

A PIECE OF IRON

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A PIECE OF IRON

 

Here in accordance with Italian tradition

A piece of iron, a vintage bottle opener;

How easily it slips into the hand,

How hard it worked and for so long

Removing numerous crown tops,

How often thrown across bar or café

From one sweating palm to another,

Then how long redundant, abandoned

In a drawer or some dark corner.

 

May your marriag...

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David SubacchiPoetry

DEATH OF NELSON

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 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...

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David SubacchiDavid Subacchi.Welsh PoetryLiverpool poetry

GEORGE MARTIN

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GEORGE MARTIN

 

 Some of us never get to feel it

 That magical moment

 When you hit the ball just right

 Or that high note

 The one that shatters glass.

 

 And we never experience

 The thrill of discovery

 As Lord Carnarvon

 Staring into history

 At the tomb of Tutankhamun.

 

 But you had more than your share

 Though you never looked for it

 They say...

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David SubacchiLiverpool poetrypoetryWelsh Poetry

1916

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 1916

 

 What moved them to throw caution to the wind

 To break out of committee room and bar

 Ignoring those who warned this was too far

 Those who later condemned and said they'd sinned

 What fearsome lightning their resolve confirmed

 To face artillery and armoured car

 What deafening thunder what shooting star

 Incited rebellion, what fire that burned

 In bra...

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David Subacchiirish poetryLiverpool poetryWelsh PoetryWelsh Poets

ALEPPO

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  ALEPPO

 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

 Of destruction.

 

 The...

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David SubacchiDavid Subacchi.Welsh Poetry

SIDOLO

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                                                     SIDOLO

 

Spent shell casings everywhere

gleaming in the July sun

bodies of three martyrs lie

victims of a German gun

Italy is crying now

see how fast the tears run.

 

 

Three priests in nineteen forty four

slaughtered by the devil’s hand

innocent of all misdeeds

outrage sweeps throughout the land

...

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David SubacchiItalypoetrywar poetry

A WELSHMAN IN CROATIA

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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

Seated...

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Croatia.David SubacchiDavid Subacchi.Welsh Poetry

TOMORROW

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TOMORROW

 

 Tomorrow is Remembrance Day

 The sea rises and falls

 A great abdomen

 Gasping for breath.

 

 We enjoy 'winter sun'

 Freakish for November

 But we don't complain

 They didn't either.

 

 Outside on the promenade

 Soldiers paraded

 Before leaving for France

 We have the old photos.

 

 Here too a salute was taken

 Near where ice c...

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AberystwythDavid SubacchiWelsh Poetry.

CROSSWORDS IN THE PUB

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  CROSSWORDS IN THE PUB

 

We’re doing crosswords in the pub

Because that’s what lovers do

When they fall out of love

Crosswords in the pub

 

We don’t speak much anymore

Except to discuss clues

Because that’s what lovers do

When disenchantment ensues

 

We’re doing crosswords in the pub

But at least we’re still together

Keeping each other company

Uncom...

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David SubacchiLiverpool PoetspoetryWelsh Poets

MY FATHER'S WATCH

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   MY FATHER’S WATCH

Almost a year after he died
I’m wearing my father’s watch
Automatic, Swiss, 1947
I looked it up on line
The local old fashioned jeweller
Says it’s a very nice watch
Leave it alone, don’t mess with it
Just wear it all the time
It has old fashioned ways
A turn before bed, another
In the morning and one
Just about midday
Although automatic
It needs the attention
...

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David SubacchiItalyLiverpool poetryWelsh Poetry

NOT REALLY A STRANGER

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 NOT REALLY A STRANGER

I don't know what the right term is
For this kind of tide
It is high but not stormy
Grey flecked with white
Slightly misty, bad tempered
I get the feeling it would like
To burst through the walls
And drown me quietly.

I stare through the windows
Of a seafront bistro
Designed to show the bay
At its best to visitors
But the waves are not playing
It is only ju...

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AberystwythDavid SubacchiWelsh Poetry

FIELD GUNS

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FIELD GUNS

 

A pair of field guns stand

Backs to the castle

Redundant barrels

Harmlessly aimed

At the high street

A sign reads

'Please do not

Climb on the guns'

As if children

Could pose a threat

To these two

Retired killers

Worn with age

Weary with boredom

Never to speak again.

 

We stare for a while

Examine them closely

Find nothin...

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David SubacchiLiverpool PoetspoetryWelsh Poets

THE DAY BEFORE VALENTINE'S

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THE DAY BEFORE VALENTINE'S

 

Is this ritual or adventure

See how quickly

The words are written

No longer anonymous

Is this a box to check

A form to fill

A contract to renew

An essential procedure

The mind indifferent

Even irritated but....

The heart restless

Insistent that this

Is not an option

Ink on cardboard

Flesh on flesh

One forever...

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David SubacchiLiverpool Poetspoetryvalentines dayWelsh Poets

PLASCRUG

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PLASCRUG

 

There was a great ditch

And an avenue of trees

Leading directly

From the busy town

To the cemetery’s silence

Ornate gates sick with rust

Relics of grander times

When they marked the way

To ancient Plascrug

Back and forth we jumped

Across the weed choked water

 

There was a Scout Hut

Near a playground

A row of park benches

Where we sat i...

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AberystwythDavid SubacchiLiverpool PoetspoetryWelsh Poets

EXCITEMENT

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EXCITEMENT

 

That snow white Vauxhall Cresta

With its red leather seats

And stunning chromium bumpers

Flashing through the town streets

In the front passenger seat

I waved to friends going by

As dad raced the engine

Keeping the rev counter high

 

That pure white Vauxhall Cresta

With its iconic look

A classic sixties motor

The best one in the book

The pu...

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David SubacchiLiverpool poetryLiverpool PoetsWelsh PoetsWelsh Poets.David Subacchi

THE OLD COMMODORE

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THE OLD COMMODORE

This faded slab stands to commemorate

David Lewis of ‘The Conqueror’ late

A Montgomery man ‘The Old Commodore’

Who served under Nelson in times of war

Then as a harbourmaster in peacetime

A grand old seadog not far past his prime

Here in Aberystwyth he lived and died

His watchful eye always on the tide

In this peaceful town on Cardigan Bay

He dropped...

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AberystwythDavid SubacchiLiverpool PoetryLiverpool PoetsWelsh Poets

THE BOMB THAT DIDN'T EXPLODE

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THE BOMB THAT DIDN'T EXPLODE

 

It’s still remembered today

The bomb that didn’t explode

That crashed through the church ceiling

During the Second World War

Sparing some three hundred lives

 

A replica may be seen

Here in the vestry corner

At St Mary’s in Mosta

With photos of the soldiers

Called to make the real bomb safe

 

And despite votive candles

...

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David SubacchiLiverpool PoetsMaltapoetryWelsh Poets

NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN

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NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN

 

This man won medals for bravery

Served in a world war

Mourned for his dead comrades but never

Complained about it

Came home, collected his demob suit

Walked away whistling

Determined to make the best of it

 

This other man lost a limb, didn’t care

That you would notice

Completed his education then

Went on to hack it

Never asked for...

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David SubacchiLiverpool poetryWALES.AberystwythWelsh Poets

IMPATIENT SPRINGTIME

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IMPATIENT SPRINGTIME

 

Impatient springtime

caressing the shore line

under a watercolour sky,

gentle white tipped

blue waves with breezes

blowing in our ears

whispering of warmth,

teasing us to put away

colder morning memories,

urging the shedding of

woollen scarves and the

lengthening of dog leads.

 

Copyright(c)David Subacchi.2012

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David SubacchiLiverpool poetry

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