Ros's napomawripomono

[Ros]

I, too, am a Lune.


the clocks go forward
on oiled cogs
bringing me a Spring

[bodkin]

Clever pun at the end, is the capital letter correct?

[David]

bringing me a Spring is interesting, as though the clock has suddenly exploded. Is that the effect you want? It's certainly quite a pleasing one, but I'm not sure it's the right one.

Cheers

David

[Ros]

Sometimes a pun is not really the way to go.

[Ros]

Where did it all go?

Possibly it screwed its courage up
and took the leap, hang-glidering,
and now is caught, suspended
high above the cliff-side, shrubs
and sheep spread out below.

Or it may be slumped against the bar
in some ill-gotten pub, its elbow
soaked in someone else’s spills,
wondering how long before the door
swings wide and everybody’s rain sweeps in.

It isn’t here. That much I know. And
I can feel it concentrating, listening, breath
held. Attention paid. Sometime
in the next few hours, days, even
decades, it will know. We all will know.

[bodkin]

Woo, sinister and mysterious: sinisterious...

[Antcliff]

Woo, sinister and mysterious sinisterious...

ditto.

Especially liked that second stanza.

Is "Ill-gotten" right?....I mean does the history of the pub matter rather than current state?

Yours,
March Hare

[Ros]

Ta! I think ill-gotten can be replaced by ill-favoured.

[Ros]

Ideal


The present you gave
is perfect. Plato
would have hung it
in the firelight
and admired its form.
The shape and colour
are exquisite.
It even has a scent
reminiscent of new books,
fresh bread, coffee
set to brew just as the door
swings wide. After you’ve gone
I perch it on the table
where its flawless face
reflects me, tired
by nights not slept in,
where the past
has marked its tally
on a softened surface.
This perfect thing
is hard to hold. I tap it
and it rings cold,
all cold and true.

[David]

I think Ideal is excellent. Still mulling the details, but that's the exit poll.

Cheers

David

[Ros]

Thanks, David. The exit poll delights me.

Ros

[bodkin]

Must return when less tired but thinking excellent...

[Ros]

Falling well behind. Been a tricky week.

Volume


All of humankind could fit on the Isle of Wight.
And when we jump, rainforests fall.
And when we lean and breathe
across the waves the oceans turn acidic.
And those around the edge feed plastic
to the tides and watch it eaten by the whales.
Rain falls and washes soil away. When all
is rock, pluck us up and drop us
in Loch Ness. The water rises by ten metres
then settles, smooth, reflecting only sky.

[bodkin]

Ah! You have a comfortable bleak too...

[Antcliff]

Falling well behind. Been a tricky week.

Volume


All of humankind could fit on the Isle of Wight.
And when we jump, rainforests fall.
And when we lean and breathe
across the waves the oceans turn acidic.
And those around the edge feed plastic
to the tides and watch it eaten by the whales.
Rain falls and washes soil away. When all
is rock, pluck us up and drop us
in Loch Ness. The water rises by ten metres
then settles, smooth, reflecting only sky.

Feeling unenthusiastic about humanity today? Loved this.

[David]

Intentional John Lennon quote? Works well.

[Ros]

Ha! Could be right, Seth.

Quote, David? Huh? No...

[Ros]

Struggling but persisting, to some extent! Today:


Trains speed past misted fields.
Agendas, seminars and handshakes.
My gaze is clear, my eyes
tight shut. I think I’m looking
at the future, but it’s all
electro-chemical potential,
all head-held story.

[Ros]

Jurassic Coast

After an age of cliff top we clamber down the gully
leaving butterflies to dance above. It’s a fight
to keep our feet out of the stream, to scramble
to a deserted shore flashed with the brightness of the sea.

We’ve come to seek the footprints big as dinosaurs,
eons old, seeking in them a link to one another,
a chain we wove an age ago when we thundered
through a world a brighter green than this, a time

so far removed we could almost hear the reptiles
call across the lawns, breathe air enriched in oxygen,
watch giant insects dart round dragons we could slay
before the first round of our breakfast toast.

We split up, search the limestone. The only shapes we find
are shadows in the rock, prints that wander
with no purpose, split by fissures, trailing off alone,
their hollows filled with water.

[bodkin]

Lovely!

[Ros]

Remind me


When I forget you, announce yourself
across the tannoy at a country railway station.
Loiter in the market square until the locals
comment that the statue looks a bit like you.
Create a range of fairy cakes and brand them
with your signature. Display them under glass
in tea shops selling gifts and greetings cards.

Become a strand of breeze within the jet stream
swinging to the north when pressure's high,
sweeping clear the clouds to show a night
where Venus dangles from the crescent moon.
Become a stretch of deep off the coast of Cornwall.
Feature as a hazard in the shipping forecast
and when I venture out in a dingy made for two
hang on my feet as I stretch across the waves.