Whistable reworked

These poems which I post most mornings are not intended as final drafts. They are part of a long work in progress, and this explains why the same themes and images return time and time again. In some cases I have drawn heavily on the work of other poets, but more often than not, my early morning poems are improvisations, some of which work much better than others. My aim is to accumulate material for the larger project, and this material will be edited down, and I suspect that much of it will not make it into the final work. All I can say is that while some people go to the gym for an early morning workout, I prefer to use the exercise of writing a short piece of poetry before I start my day. I do appreciate, however, that the two activities are not mutually exclusive. Occasionally, I find time to take a second look at an earlier post and rework it: this happens particularly when I am not happy with an early draft. Such is the case today!

John Lyons

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Whitstable festival

Whitstable festival

The warm body
         that durable fire
that we call life
         Along the sea shore
from Whitstable to Tankerton
         young families and groups of friends
playing on the pebble beach
         gazing out to sea
consuming
         what the sea gives back
cockles and rock oysters
         The sun warm on the face
just a light breeze
         enough to fill the white sails
music and laughter
         cementing the bonds
of community
         Sea shanties that hark back
to other times
         and to ways of life
long gone
         A pirate with a squawking parrot
is now an amusement
         almost a coastal cliché
An immense crowd
         but everything understated
all in good measure
         and in good taste
a well-tempered blend
         of humanity

John Lyons

Capital snow

Capital snow

Star-feathers
     f-f-f-f-falling
softly
     softly
a light litter dusting
     the streets of London
coffee and indecision
     life catching its breath
left dangling in the moment
     the unrepentant pulse of life
that lives through us
     and in and around us
the flotsam fluff
     of icy condensation
teach yourself to be simple
     the simpler the better
make the music
     poetry to my ears

today is anyone’s guess
     shall I go
shall I eat a peach
     shall I take a stroll
on Whitstable beach
     it’s all hard-core Hamlet
down to the shore
     street snow is cheap insulation
but a reality check all the same
     perhaps too nature’s make-up
blush that masks the blemish
     blinkers us to a multitude of sins
and the birds curiously
     sensibly silent on the subject

     the eye enthralled
     by her shape
     a lover’s kiss
     I want no other

what now – we ask
     and for how long ?
a blanket of urban snow
     – paws – pause –
a peripatetic time for reflection
     time to watch our step
“I’ll watch mine
     if you’ll watch yours”
_____________________

discarded lines :

what angel wakes me
     in the dead hours ?
small talk
     apparently
of no consequence
     go back to sleep

a thin dusting of snow
     on her heart –
the snow long gone
     her heart too –
this wintry drizzle
     will soon fizzle out
roll on summer

John Lyons