Saturday, 3 January 2009

Common Theme

The pills might be working. I can take a dig at the early C19th. Something I have a bad habit for. But the theme seems constant enough.

TO THE NEW MOON - Here, Dec/Jan 2009

I used to welcome you as my true friend -
  A toenail waving in the evening sky:
    You'd put the zing back in my run-down volts,
    But now your merciless appeal jolts
       My soul's unkempt exhaustion. Your command
Pricks sore; your charms I reprehend:
  I curse for peace as round your track you fly
       Once more, my shaking service to demand.
Such is my plea, that in this monthly trend,
  That I, at peace, my conscience freshly preened,
     Does not deserve the mud in your white hand,
    Nor taste of your addictive contraband.
       I speak quite nervous of your reprimand:
  Be merciful; don't play the spiteful fiend.

(cf. MARCH MOON - Exeter, Mar 1994/5?

As I walked haste-bound on, ignoring the city,
At best attempting to, and it was early night;-

Sudden the full moon reared-up over a roof,
A pale-primrose dancing, frenzied and silent
From island-cloud to cloud, apocalypso jade.
I stopped, stared silently, third-lusting,
Love-hurting, aghast finally; the city gone.

'With your easy roll-eyed reel,' I muttered,
'You have destroyed that I fail nightly to')

(cf. THE TRUE-HEARTED LOVER - Cheltenham, 1991

As field-elder whistles in the rain,
  And floods rise up to drown the river-shore,
The worshipper of water laughs again,
  To see his words washed past his heels once more;
Though bare, his feet clench in the crumbling earth,-
  Shiver as lapping grey-topped waves unseat
     His stance and plunge him in the surging lake;
Drowning in sodden glory, shouts his mirth
  For loving rain, the mist and frost, that meet
    In massive floody strength when waters break.

Then every hedgerow makes a sombre strand,
  Between the moon-grey waters of the night;
And owls fly white above the sunken land,
  Hooting their dismal song in mist-cracked light;
The votary entwined within that tune,
  Twists round his sorrowful eyes and expects
    The silence of her old remorseless trawl;
But flinches at the belly of the moon,
  Who pulls the mists up to her, and rejects
    His plea for entrance with her lustrous shawl.)

It's ok, you're allowed to laugh. I am.


LoopyKate said...

I did have a little chuckle here and there. But not in a 'bad' way!

differentlysane said...

The third poem went whoosh right over the top of my head. Sorry I'm a bit distracted at the mo chasing chocolates down the back of the couch...

...thats better.

I often wonder if there is any credence in the whole lunar-lunatic thing. My sciency/sensible head so it's just superstition. But... even superstition has a basis in something.

"The sun will not strike you by day
nor the moon by night" - Psalm 121

And no I have a copy in front of me - I am not weird enough to quote psalms ad lib. My Rabbi did a sermon on that line a few weeks/months/my sense of time is broken ago. Anyway it was about beliefs in the moon and there sort of everywhereness*.

Having just realised that this comment is going nowhere fast (or slow) I'm going to leave you in peace.


* I have powers of Engrish (google that if you want a laugh).

PS Wheeeee!!! (incase you hadn't guessed :-) .

Lola Snow said...

I only laughed at the mention of Cheltenham because I have been there! The rest may have gone over my head, because there were no pictures....

Lola x

Abysmal Musings said...

Cheltenham... god... ghastly place. Don't make me remember.

Abysmal Musings said...

Differently, I don't know if you saw this one before:

Kate, chuckle all you like! I'm just resigned to the fact that I always have to be on the lookout for the Keatsyness in my nature... oh ho ho ho.

differentlysane said...

Thanks for pointing the above post out. It was very interesting and a fairly convincing argument. I know I'm always a little less "mental" when it's properly dark at night - at my parents house I had blackout curtains.

Although now I'm wondering about nightlights in children's bedrooms and whether they're a good idea :-) .


Abysmal Musings said...

Yeah, they set fire to the curtains.

Actually, I feel like using mouthwash or something rereading those old ones. The middle one I've always liked for some reason, the latest is a joke/shite, the oldest is shite.

I'll post my favorite from the crazy times this year.

Abysmal Musings said...

Ah, fuck it, here's the old link: poems from 2008

I don't like linking myself, but buried in the comments is a little safer.