Friday 31 December 2010

POETRY RAT 2011 poetry for kids!


For me the free-to-download collection of 20 of your poems under the title POETRY2010 was the highlight of 2010. The success of POETRY2010 has spawned a new idea for 2011.

POETRY RAT will be a collection of original poetry for children. Submissions are now invited.

This time your identity will remain anonymous. All poems will appear under the pseudonym Petra.

The POETRY RAT link will appear in my A-Z LINKS >>>. Poems may be sent in the body of an email to gwilataondotat (email should contain the words 'poetry rat poem' in the subject line).

I shall aim to publish a new poem every 2 or 3 weeks; a collection of 25 poems by the end of the year.


.
If you are a new reader and you haven't visited POETRY2010 please have a look. It prints to 12 pages. It's a fine collection. The standard is high. I congratulate once again all those who made it possible.

Thursday 30 December 2010

3. End Game



















What passing-bells for those who die as cattle?
- Wilfred Owen (1917 - Craiglockhart War Hospital, Edinburgh)

one king surveys the board
almost now deserted
the soldiers dead or dying
the bishops gone
and too the queen

perhaps a cornered knight
or an isolated rook remains
but whatever it is
it is not enough
to win the game

the cost was great
the gains were small
and then the cause
whate'er it was
is lost, forgot

but kings can't die
and so he offers the other truce -
it is refused

that other king must seize
the chance to win

two token moves are made
not quite a skirmish
more a ploy
for now there's nothing more to do
before the coming mate in two

and so he leaves
the field of play

and thereby wins another day

______
gw2010
Wilfred Owen died on 4th November 1918. He was aged 25.

Wednesday 29 December 2010

2. Middle Game

Triumph and ambition
Driving forces
In the quest for glorious victory
Lead now to more exchanges
Upon the middle ground - the DMZ
Exists no more upon the field of play -
Piecemeal revenge becomes the forcer
Advantage shifts and shifts again
Material loss brings loss of reason
Now the war game moves
Into the Middle Game
Where paths diverge
And previous struggles
In standard books
No longer serve
To point the way
And in the weekend papers
Bathchair generals
Muse on how the game
Should now unfold
Now that the End Game
mode is near ...

________
gw2010
image:pir

Tuesday 28 December 2010

1. Opening











Let the record show
That the Countdown to War
Was a clock that was started
By Black. A provocative act.

White responded in time
With a Knight in the air. The
Goal was the centre, the tactical
High ground of Chess.

Black responded with vim. Sent
Up a Knight of his own. And soon
There were four in the air
To cover the Pawns on the ground

Now marching forward, encouraged by
Bishops and Queens in the absence of
Kings ensconced in their Castles
With their Rooks at their sides.

Now this is the end of the Opening,-
The skirmish a gambit. Will a truce be agreed?
Or will they fight on and go into
The next phase? The time reveals more.

______
gw2010

Monday 27 December 2010

King & Castle















War declared
The White King
Hopped into his Castle
And sent his Knights
Into the foray

Pawns on both sides
Bravely sacrificed
Themselves and fell
Before diagonal Bishops
And long-striding Queens.

Both Kings played
A similar game.
Strategy
Being the name
Of the game.

In Chess a King is never
Killed. Surrender stops
That fatal blow. And that
Being so they now rearm.
And so it is the game goes on...

______
gw2010

Sunday 26 December 2010

Another World Cruise

Along the Coast
She docks to refuel and so
We go ashore, Parrots in our Hats,
And in our Alligator Sneakers

We amble to the local Store
For the Ivory Chess Pieces;
A Staunton Portfolio
For withstanding Mammoth Shocks

And other Ploys
One may surely depend on;
Leopardskin Gloves
And Silver Fox Stoles,

And for Nights at the Opera
The Snakeskin Purses
Bought along a Coast

Where a Tiger slept
On a Palace Floor
And a Grandmaster moved

Bishop b4

_____
gw2010
Ambition, greed, insecurity, xenophobia, war; the game of chess has it all. Just like real life.

Two poems from Christina Rossetti

portrait by Dante or William Rossetti (both her brothers were artists)

Up-Hill

Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.


Song

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

_____
Christina Rossetti (5th December 1830 - 29th December 1894)

Thursday 23 December 2010

from The Ballad of Bouillabaisse

a self portrait
.
One of my regular delights at this time of year, a kind of Christmas present I give to myself, is William Makepeace Thackeray's wonderful 88-line poem The Ballad of Bouillabaisse. A bouillabaisse is a kind of fish soup. I think they throw everything in! The last 4 verses are reproduced here. To absent friends, then.

Where are you, old companions trusty,
Of early days, here met to dine?
Come, waiter! quick, a flagon crusty -
I'll pledge them in the good old wine.
The kind old voices and old faces
My memory can quick retrace;
Around the board they take their places,
And share the wine and Bouillabaisse.

There's Jack has made a wondrous marriage;
There's laughing Tom is laughing yet;
There's brave Augustus drives his carriage;
There's poor old Fred in the °Gazette;
On James's head the grass is growing:
Good Lord! The world has wagged apace
Since here we set the Claret flowing,
And drank, and ate the Bouillabaisse.

Ah me! how quick the days are flitting?
I mind me of a time that's gone,
When here I'd sit, as now I'm sitting,
In this same place - but not alone.
A fair young form was nestled near me,
A dear, dear face looked fondly up,
And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me.
- There's no one now to share my cup.

I drink it, as the Fates ordain it.
Come, fill it, and have done with rhymes:
Fill up the lonely glass, and drain it
In memory of dear old times.
Welcome the wine, whate'er the seal is;
And sit you down and say your grace
With thankful heart, whate'er the meal is.
- Here comes the smoking Bouillabaisse.

______
William Makepeace Thackeray
- a man with a wonderful middle name -
18th July 1811 - 24th December 1863.
° probably a reference to The Police Gazette - a publication containing photographs of wanted criminals.
.

Wednesday 22 December 2010

For frogs

and owls
the wooded paths
are black
and hard to find
the way
to friends at four
who wait
within the reeds
that hide
unpainted boats
half in
and out of water

______
gw2010
- as we prepare to enjoy the festive season let us to consider how others less fortunate than ourselves will be making preparations...

The last TV roundup

The evening is the colour of fog
This end of year,
The street a street of grit
And clumps of ice,
Cars dumped in frozen drifts
Along both sides.
What light there is
Clings to the windowpanes
Of shadowed houses
Where unseen people sit in rooms
Remote in seasonal haze
Before blue screens,
Or brush their teeth and argue
What it means.
______
gw2010

Tuesday 21 December 2010

Songs and the years' turnings

The ends of coldest winters
Turn the stars over shadowed forms
Crouched low in pits

And harps are playing
As we stand the frosty voice
Begins to sing

"All music is but mathematics
Even to those tunes on crystal glasses"
Full of hope

Our music fills
With copious notes
Adds to the sums of nothings
______
gw2010

Sunday 19 December 2010

A postcard from Christmas Island


Not waving but drowning
- a poem for the refugee children - the victims

We fell with our fear
To the sea
And the waters reformed
Over our breakage
As a body wholly reformed
And we were covered
With structures of wreckage
Washed under the swirls of the gulls
On the sea
That are not our own gulls
Though we harboured the sound
Of the cry in their songs
And tried for the glide of their wings;
The sea does not ask
If we want to be
Once more in the sea
For it seems just as we
Were under the sky
So it must be in the sea
That our spirits may rise
Through the squawks
And the glides
In the quest for the promised above.
______
gw2010

title of the above poem from a poem by Stevie Smith (1902-1971)

Saturday 18 December 2010

The Moon Ants

The Moon Ants
have taken over
your world
in the night

As you were asleep
they crept in
and took over

crept into your shadow
as silent as ants

and took over
your world

as you slept
in the night

silent as ants
as you slept

in the night
they crept in

and took
over

took over

your
world
in the night
______
gw2010
image: The Poor Poet (Carl Spitzweg)

Friday 17 December 2010

haiku trio

A member of my family, a young man serving as a soldier, was killed in Afghanistan. I didn't know him. He was the son of my late father's niece. He lived in a small village in Wales. I'm told that 500 people attended his funeral.

This haiku-trio is dedicated to those men and women who sacrifice their lives to preserve a semblance of peace and bring hope for a better and fairer future for others.

crowds link arms and sing
before the local monuments
soldiers look into the night

a cork rolls under a table
a charred stick falls to earth
a glass is broken

a burnt kebab
a sudden shower
and tomorrow silence

Thursday 16 December 2010

The new door

Behind the new door
the people burn only
with a noble desire
to unite and do good.
Please open the door
with goodness and grace
and look to the future
for the whole human race.
______
gw2010
image: Lightbox RF
George Szirtes was recently selected to provide a poem for the door of Europe House. The poem was unveiled yesterday. You may read it and an account of the evening's events (via my links) on George Szirtes' blog. My poem, The new door, written after reading George's account is simply to remind us that the world does not end at the edge of Europe. What is done in Europe affects the lives of millions of people living on other continents. I'm thinking at this particular moment of somewhere in the west of Africa where local farmers, fishermen, market stallholders and others are feeling the rough edges of some of our EU trade policies.
It's basically good what we are trying to do in Europe. We are coming together after centuries of conflict. We are a child growing up. We are getting to know the other kids on the block. And we are also learning, I hope, to care for others less fortunate. It is a well-meaning and precocious child who stands at the door.

Tuesday 14 December 2010

The Conjurer

The Conjurer
.
with the hundred hats
takes the table and the stage
away
into the spotlight's glare
and leaves
only these behind:
the ribbons he uncurled like clouds
the handkerchiefs tied up in knots
the pink-eared snowy rabbit
the flying rat that couldn't fly
and you and I.
Beware the fakes he begged
but we knew better
didn't we? oh, but yes we did
And now we'll never see the ninety-six
.
______
gw2010
Those who are in the know are agreed that 96% of the universe is dark matter - in other words those in the know now know they can only know 4% for now. Only the conjurer knows 100%. And he's not for telling.

Coppicing

The tree

Has much to answer

Still it stands

______
gw2010

The Myth


Created the clouds
And from the clouds
Swirled up like Candy Floss
The 10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 stars And ME
Over here on this Blue Planet
Universal Being with ability
To question it all
A Being like Anton Zeilinger
With his computers full of numbers.
It's a question science can't answer
Never can answer, says Anton.
And so I pray
For the soul of Giordano Bruno
Burnt in the fire of a Roman cloud
______
gw2010
In the Inquisition of 1600 the priest, poet, philosopher, Giordano Bruno was sentenced to be burnt at the stake in Rome. Another victim of ignorance and dogma.

Wednesday 8 December 2010

On his blindness - sonnet xix

Today is John Milton's birthday. He was born in Bread Street, Cheapside. For many years Milton's father, a userer, supported his son's studies at home.

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide;
'Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?'
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, 'God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait.'

John Milton
9th Dec 1608 - 8th Nov 1674

Sunday 5 December 2010

The man with red hair


I can remember when I was a child in the 1950's that there were cards placed in the windows of Bed & Breakfast establishments in various seaside resorts in Britain which said: NO IRISH OR BLACKS. This device saved the visitor who fell into one of these categories the trouble of ringing the doorbell and being given the cold shoulder.

Here in Austria there was a time when there was another enemy at the door of the superstitious and ignorant and this was the man with red hair. The playwright Johann Nestroy wrote a comedy called Titus Feuerfuchs about the problems faced by red-haired people. I've written a poem in which a young man, that is possibly myself, seeks B&B accomodation in the imaginary land of Britauria.

The man with red hair

"You can't trust a man with red hair
That's what my late husband said
It's well known they have bad tempers
Put your bag down over there
This is the room - very comfy bed

A man who stayed here once
Had coppery hair, so curly tight
And when there was no bright moonlight
He crept away in the dead of night
The night it was when he'd caused the fight

Down at the old Cock & Bull
And they had to call in the law
Yes, my husband told me all
Such a nice view from this room I think
The hill so far away, please call me Mo

And enjoy your stay, shall I put
your trilby by the door..."
______
gw2010
image: Isaac Rosenberg self-portrait (Wiki)
I can't see his hair colour but I like his hat!

Saturday 4 December 2010

Looking into Moravia


By the windmill of Retz
Don Quixote and Pancho
Paused to admire the view
And were suddenly turned
Into old metal scrap

Doorknobs and chains
Shovels and spades
A boiler on wheels
Pipework
A gate

Horseshoes and nails
Nuts bolts and screws
Hinges and brackets
Milk churn and axes
And rust.

Friday 3 December 2010

A bar in East Berlin


Where the air was neon thick
And warm and the fan was broke
Or not switched on
Sudocu puzzlers were drawn
To their cigarettes
Under football on the box
Vogt's Bier-Express
Had KissKindl drip mats
And plastic crysanths
Parked in yellow cups
5 beers on tap
The Beatles
And Stalin behind the bar
And a Russian policeman's cap.
______
gw2010
image: Vogt's Bier-Express (well worth a visit!)
the poet was there in 2005 or thereabouts and
local team Hertha Berlin were on the TV.

What is truth, my son?

If a crow loves you
He will purr like a cat

If a cat loves you
He will give you a mouse

As for the mouse
I only know this
That I took one to school
To play with in Physics
And was duly rewarded

The stick broke
n over my back
side

And somebody's law
That turned out
To be wrong
______
gw2010

Thursday 2 December 2010

I'm studying the poets...

Ngendo Ash
Sam O'Nhuae
and
Red A Wardle
but I haven't got very far
____
gw2010

Mother Teresa's poem


Poverty didn't come from God. We brought it; you and I with our egoism.

Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.
Life is a beauty, admire it.
Life is bliss, taste it.
Life is a dream, realize it.


Life is a challenge, meet it.
Life is a duty, complete it.
Life is a game, play it.
Life is costly, care for it.


Life is wealth, keep it.
Life is love, enjoy it.
Life is mystery, know it.
Life is a promise, fulfill it.


Life is sorrow, overcome it.
Life is a song, sing it.
Life is a struggle, accept it.
Life is a tragedy, confront it.


Life is an adventure, dare it.
Life is luck, make it.
Life is too precious, do not destroy it.
Life is life, fight for it!
-

In the garden

a golden apple
more golden than gold
no rain today

On the Freyung

everywhere is blooming
neurosis
and light headed drunks
horsing around

one throws back a punch!

dappled ponies with blinkers
pull Fiakers through streets
of skeleton trees
under snow laden clouds

something flashing blue lights
pulls suddenly up
where baubles and bangles for trees are on sale
and the beggar touched me for fifty

- but only in cents -

and there's a woman wrapped up
in fifty dead rabbits

standing under a poster:

Tchaikovsky's Nut
cracker Suite...

is coming for Christmas
to town
______
gw2010
based on notes written at the Freyung Christmas Market, Vienna,
in Dec 2009.

Fiat Lux

When light comes ashore
it is monochrome waves
which if we could see them
would be coloured liked water
and we'd read the monochrome
message of colours
like
Borderland Blue
Appletree Green
Luminous Luxor
Obdurate Red
Uniform Gaylord
and
Rodent Related
in
Sliddery Shadow
______
gw2010
- in 'reality' there are at least two places in the human brain which deal with colour formation - in V1 the signal from the eye is seen first monochrome - this image is then sent to V4 where the colours are 'painted in' before the 'picture' is sent further up the line.

Wednesday 1 December 2010

He who cooks by numbers

When great numbers are killed, one should weep over them with sorrow
- Lao Tzu

He who cooks by numbers

1 - cuts slices of rumour
2 - spreads them thickly with fog
3 - and seasons with relish, not too hot
4 - then adds several dashes of boiled omen
5 - and places on tray under medium-high grill
5a - he removes when hot
5b - and places on window ledge
6 - then decorates with morning glories
6b- and serves
7 - with cold victory salad
8 - followed by bramble pie
9 - and makes no charge (himself)
______
gw2010