Four Superb Poems by Peter Lilly

 

Light Sources I

 

I sit at the very edge of town, and smoke.

Stars whispering above the street light shout,

Now behind me. I sink so I can float

Beneath the shadows, the cosmos to call.

The red candescence from my draw, draws out

The contours of the last garden wall

At my back. Whereas the iridescent

Yellow flickering, as I light the next

Cigar, makes the stars gently disappear.

As do I, in cloudy reminiscence

And a deeper apprehension of the text

Of my self and the celestial spheres.

I duck below the blows of constant fight

To shiver before the warm starlight. 

 

Light Sources II

 

I duck below the blows of constant fight

Beneath the ever present burning gaze,

To shiver before the warm starlight.

 

Our corneas contain competition,

Our lenses tinted with a violent malaise.

I duck below the blows of constant fight,

 

Prostrate as if in humble contrition

Yet looking up, one can escape this maze 

To shiver before the warm starlight,

 

And amid the frenzied acquisition

In stillness before the ethereal blaze

I duck below the blows of constant fight.

 

I stoop beneath my prescribed volition,

Relinquish the script planning out my days,

To shiver before the warm starlight.

 

Letting dew dampen my ignition,

Cooling from the ravaging raging rays,

I duck below the blows of constant fight

To shiver before the warm starlight.

 

 

For Tolkien

 

It’s coming down around me as I write,

Fingers tapping, shouting in near silence

Documenting the divorce of sight and light.

Soundbites repeating that plagal cadence,

The ‘AMEN’ of a time of lines stutters,

Unable to admit its finitude,

But order in the midst of chaos mutters

Of monsters, withering the wealth accrued.

We are but shrapnel, outraged by the blast

That animates us. Our statements are flames

Frozen from context in digital frames

From which will emerge the new ruling class.

Make your difference tiny, tangible and

Slow enough to compose roots in the land. 

 

Pendant

 

Those little pictures inside jewellery

Never portray a violent victory,

A triumphant political party,

A boost in the national economy.

Behind such delicate silver fastenings

Secret photos of faces are treasured

Whose value, in gold, cannot be measured,

Shared or compared, for they are a hastening

Of the flavour of timelessness in time,

A frozen moment, a window framing

An ageless portrait whose perception, blind,

Changes not with the wearers own waining.

Achievements are counted, put on display,

Love’s treasures are hidden, safe and away.

Peter Lilly is a British Poet who grew up in Gloucester before spending eight years in London studying theology and working with the homeless. He now lives in the South of France with his wife and son, where he concentrates on writing, teaching English, and community building. His work has been published on a number of sites and journals including owenbarfield.org, Ekstasis Magazine, Macrina Magazine, Across the Margin, Radix Magazine, and the 2018 Anthology 'Please Hear What I'm Not Saying.' 

Blog: peterlillypoetry.blogspot.com

Twitter: @peterlillypoems