Nominations for Poems Posted in January

Nominations for Poems Posted in January

toniclark
Member
Joined: 05 May 2006, 22:47

01 Jan 2018, 18:24 #1

                 2018-happy-new-year-animation.gif
Hi Everyone! Here's to another year
of reading and writing together at The Waters!
Don't forget to post some nominations here. 
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Osel
Member
Joined: 20 Jun 2007, 07:33

09 Jan 2018, 20:09 #2

Billy’s

a hike into rooms never furnished

naked trees vow silence amid scant green temples
a shiver of sparrows quarrels with a deadpan sky the path

unforgiving the sun somewhere i haven't found yet in this
light from the interior of a house not built not habited not

breathing from wall to wall no cupboards or closets
no rooms to leave a mess of memories the dim reflection

of a wife a child the bliss never fully known and never
given up in the coldest darkest part of the columned

woods a museum of feelings viewed through glass fragile
breakable to slightest touch leading back to where?




—-
*changed amidst to amid, to agree with scant. Osel.
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Osel
Member
Joined: 20 Jun 2007, 07:33

09 Jan 2018, 22:17 #3

sergio’s

An Illustration of My World


The same as your non-existent window.
Like a shadow of a hand on a ghost instrument.
The same as veins and the intense manner
by which blood travels through them.
Always with the same equity,
offering me its precious
continuity it ideally ensures
your existence.
From a distance.
At a distance.
Despite the distance.
With your forehead and your face,
all your presence, not closing your eyes,
and the landscape that leaps
from your presence when the city was not,
could not be
but the useless reflection
of your hecatomb presence.
To wet the feathers of birds even better
this rain falls from on high.
It locks me inside you.
Inside
yet far from you
like a lost path
on another continent.
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BobBradshaw
Member
Joined: 08 Jan 2015, 20:05

13 Jan 2018, 18:18 #4

I nominate Frank's 'Fenchurch St. Station'....

in Dickensian gloom, an autumn drizzle 
dampens the concourse entrance. 
A ticket inspector, jocular 
in silver buttons, nods me through 
the gate.
 
End of voyage,  a half day free. 
I buy a return to Chalk Farm,
the long climb to Primrose Hill
My seaman's sway draws interest
from passers by. 

The maid says she is out,
maybe the zoo or Hampstead Heath, 
but I've missed her and that is that.
 
Steam blasts out from a water trap.
I run past the inspector's black box.
‘Plenty of time Sir!’ 
A woman's voice on the tannoy 
drags out the time,
‘The train on platform four to Tilbury
will leave at 3:55  . . .’ 
her metallic voice echoes in the rafters.
 
A couple squirm on a bench
The ticket collector winks, 
‘Young love. hey Sir?’ 
"Yes, Indeed." I buy a paper
at Smith’s and stroll to my carriage.
 
I try to read, but Amey's hair,
lies silky on my shoulders, her fragrance 
blending with her shampoo, her stockings 
hanging from the clothes horse
all rush to mind along with her laugh
when I arrive with a present.
 
A pigeon squawks underfoot.
The train puffs, chugs an’ puffs out
of the station. 
Rat-a-tat-tat,
rat-a-tat-tat.
The smell of coke hanging
on the vapour of the engine's chuff.
Rat-a-tat-tat. 
The rhythm changes over the points, 
te-te-te-duh, 
te-te-te-duh,
nothing to be done.
 
I ponder five more weeks at sea,
look down on the embankment.
A housewife beating a dust ridden carpet,
a scrap metal dealer leading horse and cart;
workmen congregate like lemmings
to the shriek of a factory hooter.

I lean back into a first flass antimacassar,
soften to the idea of North Steyne 
in the sun-soaked antipodes,
Helen sunbathing by my side
scrumptiously bronzed.
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toniclark
Member
Joined: 05 May 2006, 22:47

14 Jan 2018, 12:45 #5

Glad to see some nominations here! Gracy has one in the wrong thread. I was going to paste it in here for her, but Alison has already nominated it. 

See you soon. 
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Osel
Member
Joined: 20 Jun 2007, 07:33

15 Jan 2018, 03:08 #6

FD may want to post an edited version for consideration. I was going to nominate it, but it was being workshopped still.
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FranklyDire
Member
Joined: 07 Jun 2015, 22:45

15 Jan 2018, 18:32 #7

4th Ed

in a Dickensian gloom, 
an autumn drizzle dampens
the concourse entrance. 
A ticket inspector, jocular 
in silver buttons, nods me through.
 
A half day free, 
‘Return to Chalk Farm please,’
the long climb up Primrose Hill.
My seaman's roll draws attention,
commuters head to the underground.

The maid says she is out,
I think, probably at the  monkey house 
watching primate antics 
or a voyeuristic jaunt
on Hampstead Heath. 

A cloud of vapour envelops me
from a blast of vapour from a locomotive.
I run past the inspector's black box.
‘Plenty of time Sir!’ 
A woman's voice on the Tannoy 
drags out the moments,
‘The train on platform four to Tilbury
will leave at 3:55  . . .’ 
her metallic voice echoes in the rafters.
 
A couple squirm on a bench,
the ticket collector winks, 
‘Young love, hey Sir?’ 
"Yes, Indeed!" I buy a paper
at Smith’s and stroll to my carriage.
 
I try to read, but Juliet's hair lies 
silky on my shoulders, her fragrance 
blending with her shampoo, her stockings 
hanging from the clothes horse
all rush to mind along with her laugh
when I arrive with a present.
 
A pigeon squawks underfoot.
The train puffs, chugs an’ puffs out
of the station. 
Rat-a-tat-tat,
rat-a-tat-tat.
The smell of coke hanging
on the vapour of the engine's chuff.
Rat-a-tat-tat. 

The rhythm changes over the points, 
te-te-te-duh, 
te-te-te-duh,
nothing to be done.
 
I ponder five more weeks at sea,
look down the embankment at still life:
a housewife beating a carpet,
a scrap metal dealer leads horse and cart,
workmen congregate like lemmings
to the shriek of a factory hooter.

I lean back into my first class antimacassar,
soften to the idea of North Steyne, 
an antipodean summer,
Helen sunbathing by my side
scrumptiously bronzed.
Last edited by FranklyDire on 17 Jan 2018, 09:48, edited 4 times in total.
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Osel
Member
Joined: 20 Jun 2007, 07:33

Yesterday, 21:06 #8

 i just sent you a PM.  no worries, you can replace this tinker with another. ☀️
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