Poetry Blog by John Eliot

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Cynthia Buell Thomas on The Sound of Photographs (Thu, 12 Jun 2014 09:36 pm)

Autumn


A time, I knew death; and birth.
With belief I will be
an Autumn leaf
looking for Spring.

Winter is not the season
for foolish gravediggers
who await the journey to warmth.

 

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Heol y Cyw

Heol y Cyw 

 
Did I expect to meet
Father walking the street
Man and Boy
crossing paths
looking for remains 
on the earth
 
I walk deserted paths
searching for your soul
 
in a Cardiff square 
listening to a street player
Morning has Broken
your favourite song
 
I knew you'd departed
this village long ago
 
And striking out
into the coun...

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Frame of Words

'I love you,' he said.
'No, you don't.'
'In my poems. You can find my love for you.’
'Love of words.
You live in a box
Rearranging alphabet
Into order

That only you control.'

Like a jazz musician
Finding different improvised
Melodies
Running in parallel lines
With a wayward bounce
The listener pretends
To understand

So the artist draws lines
Creating as if a God.
Man and Woman,
...

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The Sound of Photographs

The sound of photographs


Look
clever prints
flat on the wall
door
radiator
figoor


Caught

in fast isolation
blurred
against
a clear white wall
photograph hangs
too small to see
while the words
hang

like electricity
tempting us to touch

we smell
we taste

we see

see?

Listen
To what Laurent wants us to see


Or is this only
a bourgeois place to be
on a col...

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