Thursday 11 February 2021

Three Poems by Mark Mayes

 



when voice voices 

 

in pause

fear rose

brittled

 

nothing works

lost is all

happily

 

a spider

over monitor

backlit

 

I convince

the star

to leave

 

no harm

to us

or will

 

so leave it

for now

this itch

of feet

 

so leave it

to sleep

to grow no thing

 

again spider

mute reminder

of doesn’t care

 

yet valuable

as breath

as air

 


Ghosts 

 

across the iron bridge

into your courting grounds

 

the bird sanctuary

and the river curving

 

white houses on the far side

not there in those days

 

late forties

and the war a fresh wound

 

my feet on the wooden boards

thudding like years falling

 

and the flowers I place

in the crook of a tree

 

look out onto water

where you once yearned

 

soft hand

on rough uniform

 

london hand

on german fabric

 

in your sweet empty youth

before the grip of life

 

in your sweet full moment

before magic hid its face

 

  

Silence

 

After the question you knew the answer to,

after the door is slammed,

before the act that will change your life,

before the words you’ve always wanted to say.

 

When rain ceases,

when breathing ceases,

because all has been explained,

because there was nothing else to try.

 

In the room you left behind,

in the uncharted regions of your love,

around those who have lost the trick of friendship,

around the tree shattered by a storm.

 

Forgetting the names of everyday objects,

remembering the hour truly happy,

allowing the once-thought impossible,

crying in the monstrous din.

 

 

Mark Mayes has written three novels (The Blue Box; The Grass Below; Crimes of Others), a children's book (Is it Tomorrow Yet?), a collection of short stories (Take Away the Sky, and other stories), and a collection of poems (Winter Moon). He is widely published in magazines and anthologies. Mark also writes songs.

 


No comments:

Post a Comment

Three Poems by Steve Klepetar

Changing So many women turned into trees  or reeds or weeping stones. There was a man bent over a pond  who became a flower. Another died  b...