Бесплатный фрагмент - A Cynical Poetic Look at the World, Life and Love

The Best of My First Attempts at Poetry

FOREWORD

Bear with me, for I have delivered what was dealt — not without a lot of help and advice from more experienced friends — but I am proud of my work, hence its existence in this form for all to see and judge. Be gentle please, kind reader, but should you be so inclined to critique harshly, I have a thick skin!

Considering I only began learning poetry in January of 2018, a mere eleven months ago as I write this, I have come a long way and learnt a whole lot, good enough to be in print. And so it came to pass, and so it shall be.

I offer no apologies for the cynical or depressing nature a lot of these poems imbue; well, that’s unfortunately life, or the way I see it anyway. Read on, enjoy, laugh in appropriate places where the humour is evident, laugh at my metaphors, should they prove so inept, but think and cry where you feel you should too — I did. You may cringe too, also allowed.

Thanks, from the bottom of my heart, for reading. Come again, soon, should it so please you. You’ll be most welcome.

Colin Palmer

16th November, 2018

Part 1 – LIFE

LOST (A First-Time Traveller)

Turmoil, recoil, carved gargoyle

Tired edifice appear, well, decrepit

Tumescent lips, vagary of gastronomic cuisine

Triggering swathes, lost dollars, surgery sojourns

Terminology of freakin’ flippin’ foreign discourse

Totalling the tired turmoil, triggering more tumescence

Terrified of terminology, abstract ancient gobbledegook

Tippling, solace in a glass, effulgent, aqueous appeasement

Temerity of conclusion, total abandonment, terrifyingly real

Terminate tipple, lucid normalcy restored, sigh Home Sweet Home

Thirst for more, yearning, missing, travelling

Time lingers, imputes, languishing tropical sunsets await

Teasing tickle blissful golden sand, seafood, dusky maidens

Tarry not, telephone, travel, take off, escape.

=====◎◎◎◎=====>

LIGHTNING

That day my mother told me

lightning never strikes the same place twice,

will forever remain a memory, because it’s true.

So I believed for twenty years or more.

We grow up languid, accepting,

in awe of elder knowledge,

forever trusting the truth of advice

they deliver with all conviction.

My mother, one of those elders

gifted belief without question, but

she was the only one to tell me about the lightning,

tho others did affirm.

Through my teenage years I shared the

wisdom passed to me, for I discerned

that one does not take, forever take

without giving too.

As life is wont, experience counts for naught

for things no proverb can prepare — the lightning.

Not literally the lightning, metaphoric of course.

I do not dispute my Mother’s counsel

for she believed it too, beyond any doubt.

Her words forewarned of real and physical threat.

She did not fail me, and should not suffer remorse.

Again, as life is wont, a corner I did turn.

I saw the eyes, the wonder, when

those to me much younger, looked at I

the same way I always viewed my Mother.

Respect, tinged with awe, and nodding agreement

of every word put forth.

I wasn’t old enough for this, such responsibility

for those that follow thy and thee.

A small minority showed fear, trepidation, mistrust,

also foreign to me, because I rejected the

knowing advocacy that I was becoming an elder too.

Unprepared, in my immediate post-teenage years,

this folly was thrust upon me.

Not forewarned I’d be so bestowed

this beastly thing that comes with maturity

that we shoulder and accept, unknowingly.

Then the lightning struck. The truth of such

immense, in the form of a pretty girl who wooed,

caught me completely unprepared.

My heart did dissolve, I fell so deep,

was naught could do to dwell the leap — into love.

Love — that awful sleep

where everything ceases to be normal

with that person of immediate intimacy.

I did not recognise the lightning strike

the first time obscured by passion,

blind passion and awkward discovery.

Emotions so opaque, so oblique,

it’s not until your whole heart aches

that you see what has befallen.

Then it’s too late, to stop what is your fate,

absorb the lies, the loneliness of deceit.

More years have passed me by, of course,

but I still wonder why — why did pain choose me?

A plethora of pretty girls parade, unseen

by my untrusted eye, unready to fall or commit again,

after such complete failure, there was little,

no, no desire at all for repeat.

Until one day she did come, empathy, not pity,

she dragged me from the depths I’d wrung.

Maturity, experience, granted us as a lesson.

We moved slow to our fruition, she soothed and

smoothed the waters, so our transition beyond lovers

to a couple, came with much surprise and fire.

There was comfort, there was warmth,

everything a couple should have, and yes

of course, there was love. Copious amounts

as givers and takers both require.

Lightning did strike twice.

I didn’t recognise the first, was

only on this second I did see, and only then

understood this was much worse.

My trust dissolved, heart lost, crushed in a vice,

smooth waters turned to stormy seas.

Nothing my Mother told me struck a

chord of understanding, except she was wrong.

Lightning can strike the same place twice.

<=====◎◎◎◎=====>

SHOW ME

Show me your hands,

Show me your feet,

Show me your body,

No chance of sleep.

Show me you’re lithe,

Let’s see you flex,

No hesitation or fear,

We’re not here for sex.

Show me your fingers,

Show me your toes,

We’ll start real soon,

Just go with the flow.

Show me your eyes,

Show me your hair,

Do as you told,

No time to despair.

Show me your ears,

Your lips, your mouth,

Show me your tongue,

C’mon, stick it out.

Again, let’s see the eyes,

Look what is here,

Shiny, exotic spatula,

A keen edge so sheer.

Oh, now you’re afraid?

Writhe against those bonds,

Show me how desperate,

The fight I am fond.

You wriggle and jiggle

And raise quite a sweat,

Relax my sweet dear,

Nothing just yet.

I like to look first,

Admire my prize,

Take it real slow,

Prepare for surprise.

Show me you hear

The commands that I give,

I’ll untie one hand,

If you’re good, you may live.

There’s a good girl

Do as your told,

Ah, oops, you shouldn’t

Have acted so bold.

I loosened a hand

An act of faith,

Instead you show me

Nothing but hate.

So now you will suffer

At the hands of time,

No anaesthetic, walls

Of pain you must climb.

Show me the terror,

Show me your fear,

Nothing so lame as

A few random tears.

Because you showed me

Your complete disdain,

There will be no way

That you can feign

What you feel inside,

We will both see

All will be uncovered,

To the nth degree.

Not a shred of skin

On you will remain,

While every breath

Will expose your pain.

Show me now the

Panic you feel,

So we can prolong

This ghastly deal.

The simplest requests

Were made to you,

You only need comply,

Show you want it too.

Instead you brought a

stupid will to survive,

When you only need show me,

So you could stay alive.

The simplest requests

I made to you

Show me, show me,

Is all you had to do.

Shall we start again?

Give it one more try,

Show me this, show me,

Or is it still, just die?

As I explained

In my softest voice,

Do as your told,

You don’t have much choice.

So, here we go

One more time,

Relax, take a breath,

Everything is fine.

Show me you hands.

Good girl, well done!

Show me your feet.

Oh, isn’t this fun!

Now show me your fingers,

Show me your toes,

Show me your body,

That’s it, real slow.

Your ears, your eyes,

Your lips, your mouth,

Show me everything,

Your north and your south.

What a good girl you’ve been,

But you know it’s too late,

Fifteen years waiting

For you to display faith.

The simplest requests,

The friendly commands

Of show me,

And look where you land.

Now I’ll show you what

Your mother possesses,

Stop your blithering,

There’ll be no regresses.

You’ve taken my life

You’ve stolen my soul,

And now I’m here to

Take you as a whole.

Put you back to

Where you belong,

And nobody can tell me

That I was wrong.

Show me now my

Daughter so sweet,

Show me now and

Make me complete.

I have really got

Something special for you,

Nothing as lame as

The spatula tool.

See this here,

Now I’m showing you,

It’s a special device

You will get in lieu.

This will take time,

You’ll feel every inch,

Lie very still now,

Not one little flinch.

Ooh, do you like the sound?

Like a dentist drill

Permeating the air,

Itself enough to kill.

But not for you,

Oh no, my dear,

For you it’s prolonged,

A day, a week, a year.

What’s that you say?

You’re ready to show?

That’s great to hear

Almost too late, you know.

Oh alright, I am your Mom,

I believe you, dear,

Okay, off you go, but — 

Send your brother down here.

<===◎◎◎===>

THE CRUCIFIX

We all have a cross to bear

But mine was real.

Nothing to do with Jesus

Or Christianity,

Nothing at all to do

With religion.

Except that of my mum.

When I was 14 years old,

She gave me a crucifix

And a cheap chain to hang it on.

I was a boy, an active one at that.

Of course the chain broke

But that crucifix always seemed

To find it’s way back.

I couldn’t lose it if I tried.

For example, we lived beside an

At times, fast flowing river.

I swam in that river, often, and during

A play fight with another lad,

Broke the chain, again.

What depths that crucifix sunk to,

I have no idea. I never did reach bottom

In that part of the river.

Two days later it lay on

My bedside table, new chain and all.

How it got there, to this day

I don’t have the slightest clue.

My mother denied knowledge.

My father too.

None of my brothers or sisters

Acknowledged finding it.

I was a boy, payed it no mind

And simply put it on again.

At least it would cease the

Constant nagging from my mum.

Many times in young adulthood

I misplaced that cross. It still

Had no particular value to me.

I only wore it out of habit

Because my mother told me to.

Then I saw periods of active service,

At a time when no war had been declared,

The wearing of personal jewellery

Was against the rules.

But every single time I came back to base,

Before I even got into a desperately

Needed shower,

That crucifix found it’s way

Around my neck.

I wore it whenever circumstance allowed

For the next thirty years.

Then one evening, my sister called.

Come quickly she told me.

Mother is ill. She may not last a week.

What’s the first thing I thought of?

Of course, that crucifix.

Do you think I could find it?

No, it should have been around my neck.

But nowhere to be found. I turned my

Home upside down, my car, my truck.

I phoned and even delayed my flight.

Because I knew the first thing my

Mum would say — where is your crucifix?

In horror I understood I had to go

Without the familiar weight

Against my chest.

My mother lasted four more days

And not once did she mention it

Before she passed peacefully.

Ten days of grief and hollow life followed.

‘Til I went home deflated, demoralised,

Demolished, despaired beyond belief.

What do I find as soon as I open the door,

In plain view and clear for all to see?

That cross, sitting there peacefully.

I picked it up, completely conversant

It had not been there before I left.

I walked down the beach, a

Two minute stroll, and pitched

It into the raging surf.

Alternate periods of sporadic crying

For a few days at least.

Then I awoke and decided it

Was time, time to get on with my life.

For the next six months I worked at

Normalcy and little by little it

Came my way.

Then the day my sister called, again,

You need to come for the laying

Of mother’s headstone, and the

Distribution of her pitiful estate.

Do I need to tell you the gift

Appointed to me?

That crucifix.

I swear the same one

The very same, each and every time.

I was sure.

Until my sister started passing

Out more and more.

You got me Mum

I did think, as each of us

Took a full box of those

Damn crucifix. Thank Mum!

<===◎◎◎===>

CHICKEN FEET

My mama screamed

A lot

Afore she had me,

My mama screamed

Even more

When she seen me.

Nurses swooned

Doctors gasped

Never seen before,

I hope not the last.

Then I learned to walk

And not before time

Mama said was normal,

To walk at age nine.

I wents to school

Learned about maths

Geography, history,

Science a blast,

English too, not real good,

Biology what changed my mood.

Was the neighbours first

Who changed my mind

The way they pointed

And belly laughed.

The kids at school

Some teachers too

Makes me sad,

Makes me rue,

The day mama screamed

As I came thru.

I managed,

Got past junior grades

Enjoyed my class

‘Til that day

The bully come

Put me on my ass,

“Whatcha do that for?”

I screams at him,

He laffs some more, then

Kicks me in the chin.

Out like a light

Is where I went,

Woke up in a bed

Bright lights, soft sheets

Nurses stood, mouths agape

Other patients too,

Why everybody, everybody

Need be so rude?

I tucked into bed

Closed eyes like glue.

Two days I lay

My mama did say,

Hiding, forever hiding

Come what may.

Then a man come seen me

He gently spoke

I felt no fear

His charm awoke

A feeling inside

That all’s not broke.

“I can help you son,”

Was what he said,

“help me wif what?”

His face went red.

He slowly tugged the sheet

Above my legs

And pointed, “there,

With your chicken feet.”

I frowned at ‘im,

Completely unaware.

So he explained

Nows I understood,

No need to scratch dirt

To get my food,

I could play ball

Other games too,

The same as all kids

Get to do.

What a treat to be rid

Of my chicken feet.

No more bullies

No more tease

Just learning,

Learning everything,

To catch up

Where I should be

Before I had

Those damn chicken feet.

No more hiding

Walking down the street.

So here I am

Graduated pilot school,

Seen active service

But I ain’t no fool,

Kept my head down

Out of enemy sights

Made me mama proud

Of the successful flights,

Got the medals and

I Got the might.

But one thing

Remains with me,

The day we began our

Pilot training.

The instructor swore

As he pointed out

The cockpit controls

And copilot layout,

He laughed aloud and

Made us all shout.

Especially me

When he said this,

“It’s pretty tight,

A really close fit.”

He wedged his arm

Into the legspace, and,

with a completely straight face

Our eyes did meet as he said,

“be a whole lot easier

Ifn’ you all had chicken feet.”

<===◎◎◎===>

WHALE SONG

Is it better to live?

Or should I get up in the morning

and think of the final silence

that comes with

DEATH?

I need decide soon.

What should I choose?

One choice delays the inevitable. After all,

isn’t death the final act of

LIVING?