The Spell Will Not Be Broken

Do you remember that boat?
The colour of the waves
The sea, the froth, the birds, the sand
All things that existed for just one day
All things that go on in my mind
We rowed out, but never too far
We shared the same unspoken fear
The day was a day of rolled up pants
Shirtless bodies
The sun lit your chest hair on fire
Shadowed your lips when you smiled
Etched your muscles deeper
Helped the day fall under a terrific spell
A spell which I am still under

And the day that I die
When I am carried from my home
The warmth of that sun will slowly disappear
It will fade from my broken body
The spell will be broken 
The spell will be broken

Do you remember the silence on the boat
After the olives and the wine?
Do you remember the kiss, the caress, the sweat, the ghasp?
The only line of poetry you knew you screamed
At me, the gulls, the sky, the sea!
The day was long, beautiful, historic and simple
The day was the history of the world in one
We could have stayed there forever
But the world changes 
And spells don't work like that
Tides move and take boats and their cargos with
We move and take thought and memory too

And the day that I die
When I am carried from my home
The warmth of that sun will slowly disappear
It will fade from my broken body
The spell will be broken
The spell will be broken

Do you remember that boat?
There in the summer of the arab
Politicians set the sky on fire and the people put it out
Do you remember me and the thunder in my chest?
There as we both caught the reflection of our future in the water
There as we kissed in that little wooden boat 
On a sea, calm, but for the odd little frothy wave
Under a sun that kept us warm and glowing
Hearing the music of the birds circling overhead
And as we found our way back to the hard, hard ground
And after a time back to my home
Knowing you were watching me as i walked away 
Leaving your little country
Your arm raised in final salute
I knew that you would not forget

And the day that you die
When you are carried from your trench
The warmth of that sun will never disappear
It can never fade from that broken body
The spell will not be broken
The spell will not be broken







 


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Lake Daff-Dilly

Image
Fish on the water Scales floating back and forth Grey clouds hanging high White clouds beneath A naked man asleep Drowsy with whiskey Strange sunlight on his calves His chest slowly rising, slowly falling The smell of wild herbs Smoke from the kitchen fire Sex on old blankets Lost on Lake Daff-Dilly Old myths talk of death The women think of birth Some wish they could leave The men pray on boats Trout stumble in their wake Drunk on the water's cold The flies were made by old hands The rod belonged to a dead uncle God I hope there is more whiskey The fire is still going I want you on old blankets Lost on Lake Daff-Dilly
Read more

Blind Me And Guide Me

Image
What is it you want me to believe in? Is it the flock of birds flying like joined roses floating The peak of sensual age? I turn Twenty Nine and the climax is mine The plea of a generation held together by torture? The torture of the prophets- Whitman, he nurses us Is it the course touch of a hand roughened by sand and rock? The path that applauses every step to Sodom The generous buddhist- bearded with eyes closed? In bed with the russian before dawn, We Let Him Down! The cold winter warmed by cynicism and a centuries irony? You can warm my arse with your country charm The poets lining their pockets with fools gold? Lining up to be shot by the artists- a war with out generals The skeleton with eyes to the stars? Awake and noticing how the apple never rots Is it the shop keeper that keeps everything shaded? The man who keeps a statue of Apollo at the bottom of his pool The mongrel God of Egypt and Babylon? So large his nose was singed by the sun Is it the song of hope written in the s
Read more

Whose Language Will I Speak?

Image
Allow me a little time to rest the clamour Upon the contours of your form The mirror gaze within your reply Will flash and fall and rise and build response Verbal shouts and gutteral groans In my room we both are right In hotels we are wrong Where will we die? Where will we scatter? Face down, lovers bodies, Russian grasses, Russian ice Before that I will paint you I will bury you in colour, on canvas While you tell me of your youth Of chasing birds and pretending you could fly The clamour is merely collection of one stands A collection of songs Trapped within my head, resting on your form And the guardian angles are sculpted into the architecture And I can see beautiful shade below your stomach As your leg is raised and it is an arch One to hold and make prayers from As I bow down and taste the flesh of man What will happen to us? Where will you die? You who was born to the poet and the siren Where will I go? Me, the hunter who has yet to return from the hi
Read more