Poetry Blog by Christopher Laverty

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Shifa Maqba on The Village Plague (Sun, 23 Aug 2020 07:26 pm)

Paul Sayer on The Village Plague (Fri, 21 Aug 2020 07:41 am)

Shifa Maqba on On Waking in a Valley in Aveyron (Wed, 29 Jul 2020 08:34 pm)

jennifer Malden on Two Springs (Wed, 15 Jul 2020 08:30 am)

Kevin T.S. Tan on Two Springs (Wed, 15 Jul 2020 01:59 am)

Adam Whitworth on On Visiting the Aosta Valley (Mon, 25 May 2020 03:46 pm)

Chris Laverty on Old Tales I Have Turned (Sat, 16 May 2020 07:27 pm)

Paul Sayer on Old Tales I Have Turned (Fri, 15 May 2020 10:05 pm)

Philipos on Thoughts on Home While Abroad (Fri, 8 May 2020 02:10 pm)

M.C. Newberry on Thoughts on Home While Abroad (Fri, 8 May 2020 01:50 pm)

The Horsemen of The North

Riding the clouds of the turbulent skies -

clamourous hooves are your gathering voice,

mingling fast with your ominous cries -

thunder and lightning's your music of choice;

even in battle your honour not dies -

but in the land of the dead will rejoice.

 

Melded your flesh with the armour's cold metal,

skeletal features are twisted like sinew;

muffled the winds that the t...

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the horsemen of the north poem christopher laverty

To Friendship

The bee-loved foxgloves could not charm the mead -

geraniums their full-lipped petals fend

against first frosts - bright roses not ascend

the cottage arbours – if they did not feed;

the peonies' brief buddings won't succeed,

nor irises, round the borders, with them blend -

yet there are plants I have not need to tend,

and you – my friend – are such a one indeed.

Be that the...

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to friendship poem by christopher laverty

The Village Plague

With wordless murmurs, clasped in agonies of pleasure,

they huddled in amorphous masses by the river;

writhing they gorged on joy and pain in equal measure,

waiting for the one thing that would them deliver.

 

Grotesque and bulging boils and sores their bodies ravaged,

while vacant eyes and grins told of their minds devoured;

impassive slimy creatures soon among them scavenged...

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the village plague poem by christopher laverty

On Waking in a Valley in Aveyron

Is it the nearby tread of furtive feet -

insistent in the darkness – or the sound

of nocturnal noses - probing the ground -

or trees - that rustle in this sleepless heat -

deep in this sudden solitude complete?

Is it a kinship that perhaps I've found

with nature when it stretches far around -

discovered in this stumbled-on retreat?

I do not know; and yet I can't remember

...

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on waking in a valley in aveyron chris laverty

Two Springs

Two springs we drink from, since the days we met:

one is a silver stream – a draught brings joy,

transports me far to fields that never cloy,

where drowsed on flowers, I would time forget;

nearby – the next brings sorrow and regret:

turns fire to ice – turns to a scornful toy

a former love, whose charms now just annoy -

turns days awry, by sudden storms upset.

One lake of p...

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two springs poem by christopher laverty

On Visiting the Aosta Valley

To add more notes to birdsongs would – I know -

only mar the passing hearer's bliss,

more hues just cloy the glory of the rainbow;

monarchs crowned would little gain or miss

if crowned once more for show – while here below

this scene is such that art I can dismiss.

Tranquil it sits in winter's parting chill:

the shops and cafes of the village seem

drowsy with sleep; surroun...

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on visiting the aosta valley christopher laverty

Could I Cast Spells

Could I cast spells – antique and gilded cup -

clay guardian - whose tableaux chronicle

these fishermen their sea-nets lifting up,

these foxes eyeing gleans in baskets full -

clay man-at-arms - that battles time's keen edge,

that shields from its advance this pastoral scene

of two pale youths in rivalry to pledge

their hearts to her that tends the orchard green -

could I ca...

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could I cast spells poem christopher laverty

Old Tales I Have Turned

Old tales of knights and honour I have turned:

sat at baronial tables, seen a hall -

through plots I've overheard – now rise, now fall -

spied cloistered sighs, felt pangs of lovers spurned;

breathed thin-high epic airs - watched cities burned,

while noble foes charged to the trumpet's call -

yet there's a volume I most prize of all,

within whose breathing leaves much more I'v...

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old tales I have turned by christopher laverty

Thoughts on Home While Abroad

England – I never thought I'd feel

this need for damp and milder days;

abroad I roam yet wish to steal

                         from tiring rays.

 

Empty these southern climes now seem;

empty the sun, the sea, the leisure,

these passing souls. This former dream

                         brings no more pleasure.

 

These shedding leaves announce September -

the birds ...

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thoughts on home while abroad christopher laverty

To Liberty

With scanty roots upon an earthen stove

you sup by homely hearth; for long you dwell

within this city, sip its public well -

they call you Liberty; for you they strove -

these citizens – and sought you to betrove.

Hushed now these streets have grown. Hear you that knell -

see you these swollen limbs that plague foretell,

like wildfire reaching cloister, square and grove.

A ...

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to liberty poem by christopher laverty

Down on The Heath

Down on the heath I met my lover, by arches strewn with vines and flowers;

we kissed each other, then took cover, from skies portending April showers.

Well I remember then I said – as evening fell so still and solemn - 

that 'flames will out, if too much fed' - as shadows grew around each column.

 

Down on the beach I met my lover, beneath the slate-skies of November;

I took her ...

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down on the heath poem christopher laverty

The Garden Toad

One morning in my garden - as the mist

dissolved – a thousand apples ripe and gold

I eager saw, that hung from boughs of gold.

I pondered which to eat, when through the mist -

 

there squatting in the stiff and frozen grass -

I saw a thing – still as the dead – a toad.

I stood as still for long, until that toad

fled suddenly, and hid within the grass.

 

Though then th...

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the garden toad poem christopher laverty

On Seeing Manchester at Dawn

The sky's as charmless as a filthy rag -

as daylight breaks, the traffic shuffles filed;

pavements are tired and littered, bins are piled,

the clay-like Sun's first smiles with sadness sag.

The city's ragged as a vagrant hag,

and seems a lightless land for souls exiled -

yet somehow by this sight I am beguiled,

my spirits roused that in dejection drag.

I did not see - so hu...

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manchester at dawn poem by christopher laverty

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