J Gs Pages for Poets

Poem No 242

another poem from Gina Riley

(turn to the Index to find her previous entries)

VANISHING

Two figures

in a vanishing room

seldom aware of the power of change.

A mat, a floor sliding

slowly from under feet

again and again, light

on faded décor like a tapestry re-sewn.

Two people running out of time

tagged with watches.

Voices, learning to laugh

and cry, on the way

to more than silence.

Recalling... a homely room

in it, two philosophers, hardly startled

when clear flashes come with age.

We've always known

light will vanish

leave no star

not even dark. Of course

there's always hope.

Why do we remember that lame resort

of philosophy, and link its power to light?

Unbearable, looking back

when memory itself

is running out of time.

Poem No 243

Ageing

by Phil Taylor.

He wears no guise this thief of time

yet takes at will each day what's mine

my youthful looks, my prime, my health

without consent, erode by stealth.

I wake each day, I feel the same

except perhaps a bit more pain.

My mirror says I look the same

yet old friends tell me how I've aged,

with good looks gone and pain a bore

I',ll live with this and maybe more

but rushing in to twilight years

it's memory loss, the fear of fears.

Poem No 244

from Damian Deus

Part of Me

Though I travel far away

You are still part of me

Far from home in strange lands

Amongst mountain snow

and desert sands

You remain part of me

Over the hills and far away

Damian Deus 2007

Poem No 245

from Roger Taber (see Index of Poets for other poems by Roger)

who writes

Below is a kenning I wrote, partly to celebrate 200 years since the abolition of slavery but also to remind us that we are all slaves of time (!) The sonnet is a Deaf Awareness poem (I am partially deaf and wear hearing aids. It was written with two friends in mind, one partially deaf and the other profoundly deaf). Both poems will appear in my 5th collection of poems scheduled for publication later this year.

AMONG SLAVES

I am that breath of wind in the hair

inviting the human spirit to confess

its foibles, rise above its troubles,

show the world what it’s made of

though its back forced against a wall,

those vultures, prejudice and fear,

homing in to pick clean the bones of

fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers

lured by false witness here

I am that first kiss of rain on the face,

drawing on the human spirit to open

its heart as a flower its petals to the sky,

lend its beauty to the eye so we do not

pass by but pause to reflect on the how

and why of its being, and ours, reasons

to deny the vultures a victory, let nature

tell a story bitter-sweet of humanity’s

attempts to compete

I am that first angry tug at the sleeve

urging the human spirit to turn away

from its prejudices and fears, confront

our lesser selves head-on and expose

them for what they are, though it test us

the more by far...take people as we find,

respecting their privacy, acknowledging

their integrity, learning from a natural

ingenuity to survive

Among slaves of time, I am eyes and ears

who call me, Freedom, and wipe my tears

Poem No 246

OPEN WINDOW

Though ears never hear a word spoken

or life’s everyday sounds at the door,

there’s a window be sure to leave open

for love’s spirit that seeks to reassure

It reads your lips, hears all you have to say

that I might not understand when you sign;

if lips and hands gone silent, as they may,

let love’s spirit run free, our thoughts divine

We may quarrel, as hearing people do

and making up will be its own reward,

love’s spirit telling us what we should do,

knowing we will hear its every word

The spirit of love speaks to mind and heart;

deaf or hearing, we can but play our part