Wednesday, 21 September 2011

National Poetry Day Trio

Ikon Gallery

Don’t listen to me, see what joys abound
As you look around, don’t sit down
Join with me ,in the gallery, and soar,
Like you have never done before,
To places you have never been or seen

Dare,  to dream.
To see what others
Have laid bare, with their fingers and imagination

Lose your inhibitions in an exhibition - of Solakov
Join him “In the City”, share his “folders”
His fears as he flies alone
“Top Secret” revealed, encrypted phone

View the index cards of his life
His pain his strife in “My Conscience Tormenting Me”
Or his murals in 3d
Or his toilet graffiti
A big man with a small idea in his head
Is what he said........

He would like that.
For you to know
A little more about, Sedko

For here is to explore
To tell others what you saw
To live just a little bit more
And maybe, for you to remember a phrase, a word
From that  poet , whose thoughts you heard

St Martins

Assailed on all sides, by time
Man and money
St Martins Stands
Walls hunched tight
Against the onslaught
Yet eternally prevails

Here folk spoke, of King Henry
When the world lay flat.

Hammer beam roof hangs and guardian Angels gaze
Listen !

To the peace in the eye of the city’s storm
Catch, if you can, the sixteen bells peal

In darkness the silvery Selfridge’s shells glitter
Whilst the blue light on the Ssuth transept’s window  flickers
Spire reaching upwards
Grimshill stone finger grasping
For the stars.
Seeking salvation,
As a City sleeps

Cafe Blend

Where gossip sits on the froth speckled lips
Of conspiratorial customers
Dripping like over applied gloss
Where ladies that latte might risk a frappe
For a dare

Where lovers meet, unaware
And shoppers exchange compliments on
What they have bought to wear

Where, for a fleeting while, time stands still

Where waitresses are pretty, and the waiters just as lush
And the blaring traffic outside is reduced to a hush
And snatched  conversations lazily come and go
Did he really say “I’m not inflammable, you know,”
Across a gently cooling , Americano

And the Baristas entice and flirt to procure
An exotic drink or a house made liqueur
Chocolate and cake lie in wait to breach dietary trust
As you stop stare in anguish crying , “I shouldn’t but I must.”

At the next table, to me
She left suddenly, her handbag tightly clutched
Her drink barely touched
Her head filled with doubt
As she rushed on her way out
I wondered what for
As she slipped out the door
I should have said hello
I just wanted you to know
A mysterious end
To her stay at Cafe Blend

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