Saying hello to something


On my first night here the house bristles with life around me,

I listen to competing calls, whose unfamiliar tongues command.

Streets kid’s playing football, Manchester and Arsenal below The Mount,

The fragrant waft of Orange Groves, my senses overload. 


A red sky wipes itself to black, Cross and Crescent bejewel the night,

feline skip invaders pick the flesh off lesser lives,

they see me come and slow my step, but they belong, not I,

unflinching from their well claimed place, it’s I who pass them by.


Yesterday I left my mark

today my mark breaks virgin ground,

I lay my head at last to rest

and drink in every new-heard sound. 


©Wolfgar 2/2018


◄ Saying farewell to nothing

Fences ►


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Wolfgar Miere

Mon 5th Feb 2018 05:52

Thanks Martin and Keith,

Good to hear your own memories and reflections on Jerusalem/Bethlehem.

I am looking forward to getting out and about all over the country and am particularly keen to get to Gaza, hopefully later this week.

All the best,


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keith jeffries

Sun 4th Feb 2018 19:28

David, a splendid poem describing your arrival and first impressions of Jerusalem. When I first went to the Holy Land I was taken directly to a hotel in Tiberias on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. I went striaght to bed but in the morning I drew back the curtains and beheld an almost biblical scene. I was on the ground floor and a few yards in front there was a fishing boat with men pulling in their nets. Straight from the New Testament. I am so pleased that you are there. Keep us posted with poems and more impressions. Keith

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Martin Elder

Sun 4th Feb 2018 19:24

feline skip invaders pick the flesh off lesser lives

What a great line from another corker of a poem. Seems like there is a lot to take in when you first arrive at a place. I look forward to reading more of your take on what it's like to be there. I only have vague recollections of Bethlehem and the place where Christ was supposed to have been born having visited there as a schoolboy.
Nice one David

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Wolfgar Miere

Sun 4th Feb 2018 19:12

Thanks SS much appreciated,

It seems to me the world isn't so big that even in the most foreign of landscapes we can't find common focus points. Oh stop me... I mustn't appear too optimistic, it'll destroy the misplaced stereotypical mystique.

Lots of love,


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suki spangles

Sun 4th Feb 2018 11:58

Hi David,

I was waiting and looking forward to reading your first poem from your new home. It works well too as a companion piece to "Say Farewell to Nothing". Also, in the Farewell poem, we were introduced to the silence, both inner and outer; contemplation, reflection and looking forward; here we are bathed in the sensory overload of new sights and sounds and vistas. A small world too: amidst the Cross and Crescent, children playing football wearing familiar shirts..


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Wolfgar Miere

Sun 4th Feb 2018 09:22

Thanks for reading and your comments Hannah.

This piece could be about returning, but is actually about being in a new unknown place and feeling foreign in the landscape. It probably makes more sense (if any) when read as a sequel to "Saying farewell to nothing" my last submission prior to this one.

Thanks again for reading,


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Hannah Collins

Sat 3rd Feb 2018 22:23

A poem about returning. It's never quite the same.
Love the part about the cats.
Poignant sights and sounds.
A poem to read several times.


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Wolfgar Miere

Sat 3rd Feb 2018 16:42

Thanks Ray,

I haven't read "Stamboul Train" but having now read about it I might try and get a copy. My favorite Graham Greene is "The quiet American"

Any way all is OK here, things will start happening tomorrow once the weekend is done, it's a little drawn out as we have Friday Prayers and Shabbat, all good fun.

Had a trip out to Bethlehem today, excellent stuff, a little orientation and a look at the lie of the land etc. Thick with history to the point of overloaded, I must drop the tourist attitude tomorrow.

Thanks Ray, hope you're doing well.


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Fri 2nd Feb 2018 22:17

A great sense of vitality and refreshment of the spirit I read David. A tingling air of life in the raw with strands coming in. Obviously all is well buddy. Funnily enough I bought an old copy of Stanboul Train by Graham Greene yesterday so I hope I get the flavour too.


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