 publishing poetry only |
publishing poetry only |
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Monday's
Poem
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© 2010 James McLaughlin James from Dumbarton in Scotland—seat
of 'The Bruce' ancient capital of Strathclyde, biggest whisky bonded warehouse
area in the world, three miles from Loch Lomond. Mature student of Glasgow
University studied under Edwin Morgan and Tom Leonard amongst others.
Graduated 2003 MA HONS in English/American Literature and Scottish History.
Published in Stride, NTHPOSITION, gistsandpiths, free verse next issue,
leafpress, Great Works, Blackbox Manifold issue 3, blazevox, Poetry Scotland,
Ditch, the-beat, toadinthemud, Glasgow University Poetry Mag, DDD,
etc... |
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As I get close to that bit of my
heart that remains with
you. That bit where defiance grinds—a freeze frame of relics— sand stroked by the ocean. An entasis of space— an answer to some subjugation and neglect. There is nothing now except the edge of a blade on its aegis. A bird takes flight—flame darts from a tongue. The same bird that fed on a grave—gave light to other instances of light. Give me significance. Or a falling back or round and round— a drifting forwards into space. Sinew tries to recoil dies upon an open box. Sometimes I gaze at the black. So many days have been spent like the rain drawing through the trees and snow—cascading over the edge of a whist wind. When we go back time seems to stand still as the shadows. In this sunlit forest—each aspect is new and intractable. I hear men finishing their work—it is Friday afternoon. Cars race from factories to beer and Sky sports. I see them through the trees and watch. I want to be part of that their world out there but I can't. I must remain by the river and silence—search the air for comfort. |
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