The Haw Lantern
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Poems exploring the theme of loss are joined by meditations on the conscience of the writer and exercises in an allegorical vein which will both surprise and delight the many admirers of his previous work.
operated independently and no ambassador would ever be relieved. Hailstones I My cheek was hit and hit: sudden hailstones pelted and bounced on the road. When it cleared again something whipped and knowledgeable had withdrawn and left me there with my chances. I made a small hard ball of burning water running from my hand just as I make this now out of the melt of the real thing smarting into its absence. II To be reckoned with, all the same, those brats of showers. The way
Old patchworks that the pitch and toss Of history have left dishevelled. But here, for your sake, I have levelled My cart-track voice to garden tones, Cobbled the bog with Cotswold stones. Ravelling strands of families mesh In love-knots of two minds, one flesh. The future’s not our own. We’ll weave An in-law maze, we’ll nod and wave With trust but little intimacy – So this is a billet-doux to say That in a warm July you lay Christened and smiling in Bradley While I, a guest in your
across And stellar quiet reigned Until the other fireball spoke: ‘We are the iron will. We hoop and cooper worlds beyond The killer and the kill. Mount Olivet’s beatitudes, The soul’s cadenced desires Cannot prevail against us who Dwell in the marbled fires Of every steady eye that ever Narrowed, sighted, paused: We fire and glaze the shape of things Until the shape’s imposed.’ Now wind was blowing through the yard. Clouds blanked the stars. The still And seemly planets
open in the newly-wired kitchens. Young heads that might have dozed a life away against the flanks of milking cows were busy paving and pencilling their first causeways across the prescribed texts. The paving stones of quadrangles came next and a grammar of imperatives, the new age of demands. They would banish the conditional for ever, this generation born impervious to the triumph in our cries of de profundis. Our faith in winning by enduring most they made anathema, intelligences
there With his trowel point, letter by strange letter. Terminus I When I hoked there, I would find An acorn and a rusted bolt. If I lifted my eyes, a factory chimney And a dormant mountain. If I listened, an engine shunting And a trotting horse. Is it any wonder when I thought I would have second thoughts? II When they spoke of the prudent squirrel’s hoard It shone like gifts at a nativity. When they spoke of the mammon of iniquity The coins in my pockets reddened like stove-lids.