Lies Van Gasse - day 5

Ik vroeg me af of je nog langskwam,

er bleef geen plaats meer in je afdruk

voor iemand die tussen de wanden
mensen kon indammen als water.

Parken stonden vol tenten
die onze gedachten verbonden als een los weefsel.

De hele dag voelde ik een hartslag
die mij vertelde wie jij was.

Een kind knipte een papieren zon
en hield die zo dat de wolken bedekt werden.

-

I wondered if you would stop by,

there was no room for someone in your footprints

for one who, between walls,
could embank people like water.

Parks were filled with tents,
our minds loosely woven.

All day long I felt a heartbeat
that told me who you were.

A child cut out a paper sun
and kept it so that the clouds were hidden.

Yao Feng #3 -- haiku

I turned the diamond on your finger
into a plain stone

it was because I love you too much

Kit Kelen #4 - After Yiannis Ritsos

blurt it out

as in the case of the country

you were brought up to love

there isn't a womb of words

nor are we the soil given voice

words penciled

fade from the page

we fade in

words sink like stones

in the well of the heart

and one day

the world

goes without saying

still billions of years till then

still time to mean all that you must

to get the phrasing right

to blurt it out

in among annotations

future leaving well alone

words on their death beds

will squeeze a last breath

out of the healthy animal

#4 Kevin Brophy 'Secrets'

I am reading a novel about secrets.
The husband once had a secret
for which his wife forgave him
when she learned of it.
The son has a secret, for the
Sheriff has sworn him to secrecy.
Everyone drives pick-up trucks
in this novel.
Their daughter disappears in the woods.
I do not know why
the husband is missing two fingers.
The print is so small
I feel I am reading the novel in secret.
Some chapters whisper to me in italics.
Every word now seems to be a clue
to the truth.

Sarah St Vincent Welch #4 Missing the Geminids

Missing the Geminids

stars and petals

anemones

as above so below

in the river

Ophelia

in Millais' bath

Elizabeth Siddal

She painted and drew

The Lady of Shallott

turning from her loom

and mirror

patience patience

I step into the water

the shock of it

seeing Anna's encaustic practice

I smell melting wax, hear bees

feel the press and slide

on touchpads of our fingertips

I missed the Geminids again

sleep and clouds took us

work the next day

my piano teacher said

don't practice your mistakes

I take another step

burke: poem 4

What ingredients mix well for a good poem?

To whip up a froth I open Windows, pour myself

a coffee, and listen to jazz on the player.

A little spice more. Her bra hangs on the door,

all lace and silk. Super realism catches in my throat

– it is a Monk turn of phrase, the same old 88

but sung so many ways! We have tongues and talk

in 26 character clusters, rhythm section

from our hearts to the roof of our mouth.

Love and life and death – themes of our daily bred.

Susan Hawthorne #4 Adyar stitch, a river poem

the Adyar River is embroidered with floating water plants

debris of plastic and wood

unpicked by the rowers who oar their way through

stitches as loose as my pathetic knit

each stitch with a propensity to slip

disappear into the void

like a star grown too old

no stitch tight enough to make a noose

with slip knots in honour of death

the Adyar takes the dead into its slipped stitches

as when she threw herself from the pipe bridge

too thick to swim but thin enough to drown

Mikaela Castledine #4 Nineteen and a Half

I'm counting the hours on my fingers
since we woke in the cool eastcoast
morning at 6.30
remembering their propensity
to fiddle with their clocks

and the time now
after we flew out of the late afternoon
into the prolonged orange curve of the sunset
as if to catch and overtake the sun
and descended almost impossibly
against the dark rising heat of home
where we tick along the same
even in the summer

to determine whether or not I should feel tired
as if just being tired is not enough
or not feeling tired
we should stay up for a while
unsealing the house
from its week long incubation
cooling it down so we can sleep
at what would be 2 in the morning
if we were still there
not here

red cone-day 4- stare

Lizz Murphy #4 — leaves in green … (for Mikaela Castledine)

for Mikaela Castledine and her green poems  

leaves in green

organza wrapped tea

the taste of gun

that this seems familiar

frightens her

Anna Couani #4 Sleep after YF, KK, SSVW

open the door of night

surrender in sleep

float on clouds

an imperfect armature

to mask the stars

Sleep, faux encaustic

Yao Feng #2 - haiku

whether you like it or not
you will be more than you are

the water is more than the river

Lies Van Gasse - day 4

Ik vroeg me af of je nog langskwam,

er bleef geen plaats meer in je afdruk

voor iemand die tussen de wanden
mensen kon indammen als water.

Parken stonden vol tenten
die onze gedachten verbonden als een los weefsel.

De hele dag voelde ik een hartslag
die mij vertelde wie jij was.

-

I wondered if you would stop by,

there was no room for someone in your footprints

for one who, between walls,
could embank people like water.

Parks were filled with tents,
our minds loosely woven.

All day long I felt a heartbeat
that told me who you were.

Kit Kelen #3 - along from Kevin's river - 'smell of light first'

 

smell of light first

in a cloud now

mist with moon through

smoke still as rain

river

colour goes in

goes with us

lungs brim

this thickness takes up

in paddocky clefts

ridges of timber come

how the map

gathers and pools

makes mirages

breathes in us

the extant passages

living daylights

you can’t say when it clears into rain

but what won’t look good

once sky is down?

everything jewelled to the tip

drinking in

Poem 3/ burke

January storm -

even roses in a vase

shed  their petals.

- Andrew Burke

#3 Kevin Brophy 'Coming to the River'

We come to love so slowly and secretively
It is as if we are creatures in a fable
Nosing out of the woods, unaware
That the river will take our breath away
When we plunge into it.
The old cows on the farm nearby
Know everything about the river
But tell us nothing.
The river shines in front of us
As we step out of the shadows.