Poetry Blog by John Eliot

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 

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'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

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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