The truth of poet John Eliot is that he was born in Leicester, UK. He was the son of a school secretary and factory labourer. He attended a grammar school in Leicester where he played on the bones of Richard III. John became a teacher and taught Religious Studies in the South West of England. He now shares his time between France and Wales. John has one collection of poetry published, Ssh, by Mosaique Press available from all the obvious places. A new collection will be available soon. August 2015
St Augustine Grass I believed we'd been waiting for the rain; yellow parched St Augustine grass. I could hear stalks drinking, swallowing, fresh water. Gift from the sky to the sound of grass, he was deaf, he said. Tuneless as an old gong. We no longer listen to the same song. Understanding the sound of grass and Philip Glass is the sound of madness. The moment was disturbed. The magic broken. Love lost. And the rain ceased. Jane On Bradgate Moor, where Jane lies slain, grey ashes remain still, lingering as the wind blows on the empty hill. Unmoving, the spirit of my Father watches sun rise, moon set, birth and death. Beheaded trees, no branches to reach. Green leaves sigh lament October chrysanthemums cluster. The spirit lingers as we climb these rocks, carrying death in an urn: our burden. Scattering ashes; resting in peace, united, Mother Father. And Jane? She stays.
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Heol y Cyw (09/08/2015)
Frame of Words (22/06/2014)
The Sound of Photographs (07/06/2014)
Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/johneliot
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