Poetry Blog by David Subacchi (2015)

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AFTER MASS

AFTER MASS

 

After Mass                                                                                                    

you would walk us

to the newsagent

in your Sunday best

with waistcoat,

watch chain

and monogrammed

umbrella.

 

As you chatted

over the papers

Sunday Times

with News of the World

hidden inside

we each chose a gift.

 

I reme...

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David Subacchi.Welsh PoetryLiverpool poetryLiverpool Poets

TOMORROW

 

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.

HAMLET FROM THE FRONT ROW

HAMLET FROM THE FRONT ROW

 

In the front row ready to watch Hamlet

I stretch out my legs contentedly

“These are the best seats and the cheapest

You can see everything from here”

Says the guy next to me

“It’s like being part of the action”

I nod politely

 

The ghost doesn't appear

We have to imagine him

At the back of the theatre

So we swivel our heads

Unco...

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Liverpool poetryShakespeareWelsh Poets.David Subacchi

CROSSWORDS IN THE PUB

  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

CILLA

CILLA

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
Of...

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Cilla Black.David Subacchi.Welsh PoetryLiverpool poetry

MY FATHER'S WATCH

   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

HEART OF WALES


HEART OF WALES

Early morning leisure centre
Fresh from the pool
Hospital doctors huddle
Discussing surgical problems
And financial investments

A receptionist smiles
Refusing politely
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.

 

Da...

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David Subacchi.Welsh PoetryWalesWelsh Poetry

NOT REALLY A STRANGER

 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

 

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

TOOLS

TOOLS

 

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

Is an...

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David Subacchi.Welsh PoetryLiverpool poetryLiverpool poets

THE DAY BEFORE VALENTINE'S

 

 

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

NUMBER 72

NUMBER 72

 

Once there were three offices here

One north, one south

And the regional one above

First time I visited

‘Chelsea Girl’ was below

A security guard stood on duty

Just inside our entrance

They say he sold fruit and veg

When the bosses weren’t looking

 

Later other shops

Occupied ground and first

If you didn’t take the lift

You could hear their ...

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LiverpoolLiverpool poetryLiverpool Poets

JANUARY

                                                                    JANUARY

           

                                    When January wind its fist doth shake

                                    And wooden fences tear from their places

                                    When horses start, when cattle shelter take

 

                                    To the hearth...

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Liverpool PoetsPoetrySubacchiWelsh Poets

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