Counting down

 

Counting down

To see a world in a grain of sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand

And eternity in an hour

(William Blake, from Auguries of Innocence)

 

How many grains of sand can you hold?

That depends, of course,

on how fine the grains, how dry,

and how generous is your hand.

 

Do you know that hot sand flows faster

how quickly it slips

through your fingers?

 

How do they know how many grains

to put in the hourglass?

How much sand is there to the end of time?

That depends, of course, on us.

But the Earth is counting.

 

*Photo by Cesar Ramos on Unsplash

Something completely different ...

I wrote this poem a while ago, and was reminded of it this morning when I came downstairs to the kitchen...

The slug slime trail on the rug in the kitchen in the morning (and where it may lead you)

Nasty little mangy mucus monster

spent the night silently creeping around

spreading its sticky superhighway secretions far and wide.

Now a long twisting trail of its silvery slime

shines on the fibres of the blue kitchen rug

like jewelled frost against brilliant morning sky.

 

Except, I think ... how they sloop in the sink

slipslide across worktops

fill gaps with their sloppy gloop

slather gunk down walls

slick gory gunge over cupboard doors

and spread squishy snot over tiles, until ...

 

They sense their mate

follow the slippery scent of goo

to find each other

where they secrete their slime-cords,

 

twist and mingle mucus to hold them

 

in sexual congress.

 

Conjoined in a cosy slushy gastropod cocoon

 

they hang the night together

 

in hermaphrodite heaven.

 

Babble

'Babel' by Cildo Meireles. Tate Modern, London

This poem is a response triggered by the installation 'Babel' by Brazilian artist Cildo Meireles, which can be seen and heard at Tate Modern in London. In simple terms, it's a stack of radios, all tuned to different stations. It's eight metres high... There are links below for more info about 'Babel'. And here's my 'Babble' ...

Babble

Everyone is talking at once and

a babble spreads out across all the

universe.  Voices and songs from the whole

world echo from one room on the Earth,

random snippets telling how it was,

but there’s no conversation to speak of.

No-one listens to anyone

in this great tower of language

where words pour out and

no one understands anything of

what is said and no-one

ever really hears anyone else’s speech.

 

No-one really hears anyone else’s speech

whatever is said, and no-one,

no-one, understands anything of

what words pour out and

in this great tower of language

no one listens to anyone

and there’s no conversation to speak of,

just random snippets telling how it was

echo from one room on Earth,

just voices and songs, bits and pieces from the whole

and a babble spreads out across all the

world and everyone is talking at once,

           and no-one really ever hears anyone else.

 

The poem is actually a 'Golden Shovel', which uses the words in the following quotation from Genesis (referenced by Meireles in his talks about this artwork) at the end of each line. It's also a specular poem, the second half is a repeat of the first half, repeated backwards... !

 ‘And the whole earth was of one language, and of one speech’  Genesis 11:1

More info on this artwork here:

https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/meireles-babel-t14041

And there's a video description, with the all-important sound of the installation, here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pYlRn64Cj4I

 

Turning points

When I wrote this poem it was a response to the fires raging in Greece and Turkey, in particular. This was just before COP26, so I made it an appeal to Governments (why should they listen to me? They sure need to listen to Us, and now). I added lines about our vulnerable areas of Wales where I live, the Preselis and Brecon Beacons. There have since been fires there. I didn't mention London and Yorkshire, where fires are burning today. Maybe now our world is again on fire our governments will act? Haha! We really do need governments that will help us survive climate crisis.  We don't need the ones that argue among themselves about tax cuts for the rich. Thanks to editor Mike Jenkins and Culture Matters for including my poem in this anthology, the whole thing is well worth a read. Link at bottom of page.

Turning points

 See the poor man’s cow burn

hear scorching sheep scream.

Watch news films of the world on fire

from behind our various screens.

 

Trees crackling, bark burning, lumber falling

heat coursing across hills

that could be our Preselis or our Brecons,

our Cambrian mountains blackened.

 

We will him on, that man with the cow.

Turn around, turn to home

grab your kids, your mama and grandma

leave your photos, all the pictures on the walls

see them burn, see them burn

run to the sea, run  run  run.

 

Smoke chokes your lungs, sears your throat

inferno follows you

an avalanche of fire down the mountain

closer and closer  rolling and rolling

Turn and turn again, watch your life burn.

 

Your neighbour’s cow is on a rein, her bulging eyes askance

his father has the dog, dead lizards scatter the path.

A small child carries a tortoise.

See people on the shore –

friends, cousins, brothers and sisters and all their children

soot smudged across faces, eyes vacant

yet full of fear.

 

Turn, look back.

 

A wall of orange rages closer and closer

rolling smoke wreaths around

blackens your trees,  kills your bees

swallows your village.

 

Ash falls like snowflakes, shifting footprints on sand

where sea is grey mud.

Turn to the boats, the only way

to escape from heat and smoke.

 

Now turn again, turn again.

 

Look to your governments,

those who would let all our futures burn.

Let them see your dark staring eyes

your lost and angry faces

your fear and despair.

Hold their gaze.

Make them turn to you.

Do not let them turn away.

 

To find out more about Culture Matters and the Uprising anthology....

https://www.culturematters.org.uk/index.php/arts/poetry/item/3969-gwrthryfel-uprising-an-anthology-of-radical-poetry-from-contemporary-wales