john-lindsay - Hello Poetry

After eleven Walking home A days heat slackening Suburbia lies prone and flat Sound carries at night Is felt before seen Across and into the night The train pushes It drags echoes from trees, parks, estates Hammers over bridges, shuddering rails Inevitable, Unstoppable Laden with the dark The containers They count on They pass , tolling toward the witching hour Still walking home Its getting late

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Oct 29, 2017

Oct 29, 2017 at 10:54 AM UTC

john-lindsay

CONTAINMENT

After eleven Walking home A days heat slackening Suburbia lies prone and flat Sound carries at night Is felt before seen Across and into the night The train pushes It drags echoes from trees, parks, estates Hammers over bridges, shuddering rails Inevitable, Unstoppable Laden with the dark The containers They count on They pass , tolling toward the witching hour Still walking home Its getting late

17

Listening to Finzi On Tuesday morning Sudden dense snowfall through February branches Remembering beautiful Donna With her red hair Colder now Falling , falling , never touching As clarinet and piano Take the lonely road.

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Feb 28, 2017

Feb 28, 2017 at 5:44 AM UTC

john-lindsay

BAGATELLE ( Fr. short light piece, often for piano.)

Listening to Finzi On Tuesday morning Sudden dense snowfall through February branches Remembering beautiful Donna With her red hair Colder now Falling , falling , never touching As clarinet and piano Take the lonely road.

9

New recruits must follow Vibration of the coded dance Do they see beyond The divide quark in six dimensions ? Plumbing the subatomic Mirroring Shivas ebb and flow Radiating to OM.

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Feb 19, 2017

Feb 19, 2017 at 6:27 AM UTC

john-lindsay

FROM THE QUANTUM HIVE

New recruits must follow Vibration of the coded dance Do they see beyond The divide quark in six dimensions ? Plumbing the subatomic Mirroring Shivas ebb and flow Radiating to OM.

7

Before sleep, I hear their ghosts Across the dark, as the air blues Into the cold hour Up there beneath Orion They trace a glint of water Locked to the lodestone of their fragile skulls Their winter mother calling them home Crying Mersey, Mersey

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Feb 19, 2017

Feb 19, 2017 at 6:23 AM UTC

john-lindsay

NIGHT GEESE

Before sleep, I hear their ghosts Across the dark, as the air blues Into the cold hour Up there beneath Orion They trace a glint of water Locked to the lodestone of their fragile skulls Their winter mother calling them home Crying Mersey, Mersey

8

Once through the car park all myths end Vinyl dragons gone all gums Drone bored tape loops behind bars Kids whack each other with blow -up swords All want to be rightful kings On this island Of tooth-rot sweets. key fobs , pencils Around the square tables The plastic grail leaks tacky residue Historys dustbin overflows We fight a losing battle with wasps Coach loads bear us away We were born at the wrong end of time Here lies England The sword well and truly sunk

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Nov 16, 2016

Nov 16, 2016 at 6:07 AM UTC

john-lindsay

THE ONCE AND FUTURE THEME PARK

Once through the car park all myths end Vinyl dragons gone all gums Drone bored tape loops behind bars Kids whack each other with blow -up swords All want to be rightful kings On this island Of tooth-rot sweets. key fobs , pencils Around the square tables The plastic grail leaks tacky residue Historys dustbin overflows We fight a losing battle with wasps Coach loads bear us away We were born at the wrong end of time Here lies England The sword well and truly sunk

15

An evening inked in purple , as wewalked Through slow-hour summer by the still canal Last bird calls hanging on the threads of light Hushed cattle at the end of days long field And on the dusk, the herons silent wing Ghosted the waters breast to curve , and fade Grey herald of the spell and rise of moon To leave us without words, a dying dream That summer which you did not live to see We raised our glasses to you on the lawn And saw the same wings beat across our sky Fly past in salutation to the west And onward , to the sunset of goodbye Twilight came down , but with us still you fly

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Nov 3, 2016

Nov 3, 2016 at 10:28 AM UTC

john-lindsay

HERON DUSK (for Rob)

An evening inked in purple , as wewalked Through slow-hour summer by the still canal Last bird calls hanging on the threads of light Hushed cattle at the end of days long field And on the dusk, the herons silent wing Ghosted the waters breast to curve , and fade Grey herald of the spell and rise of moon To leave us without words, a dying dream That summer which you did not live to see We raised our glasses to you on the lawn And saw the same wings beat across our sky Fly past in salutation to the west And onward , to the sunset of goodbye Twilight came down , but with us still you fly

14

Small marraige of fire and moonstone Autumn lingers in her auburn hair Perfection steers her eyes Each movement the proud voyage On my ship of words

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Nov 3, 2016

Nov 3, 2016 at 10:17 AM UTC

john-lindsay

CAMEO

Small marraige of fire and moonstone Autumn lingers in her auburn hair Perfection steers her eyes Each movement the proud voyage On my ship of words

5

Was it worth all that time The eye-blurring number columns The hair-triggered ear tuned To filter white nights? That stretched toward red Five years on. Sagittarius flared an arrow Seventy two seconds Across the dark To tell us nothing Contact details lost, no message Whisper or shout Perhaps already gone Years later we angled our needle Ten thousands calls pulsing out Streamed Twitter in reply Our inbox remaining empty

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Oct 19, 2016

Oct 19, 2016 at 5:34 AM UTC

john-lindsay

THE WOW SIGNAL

Was it worth all that time The eye-blurring number columns The hair-triggered ear tuned To filter white nights? That stretched toward red Five years on. Sagittarius flared an arrow Seventy two seconds Across the dark To tell us nothing Contact details lost, no message Whisper or shout Perhaps already gone Years later we angled our needle Ten thousands calls pulsing out Streamed Twitter in reply Our inbox remaining empty

16

Forty miles Pieced by gannet The saint who never was Keening through skirts of sleet Her broken psalm Against time Forty miles To jaws of gabbro , dark Hirta Boreray, Stac Li. Towering teeth Bird-crammed. Men spidered, scaled Over a void where one fall Could blacken time Forty miles The wheel spun, warping language The world weaved on Behind oiled womens fingers Picking at time Forty miles Over sheened cobbles to the bay Men and dogs taken last Out of a mornings haar To stranger seas in time

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May 4, 2016

May 4, 2016 at 4:46 AM UTC

john-lindsay

ANTIPHON: ST. KILDA

Forty miles Pieced by gannet The saint who never was Keening through skirts of sleet Her broken psalm Against time Forty miles To jaws of gabbro , dark Hirta Boreray, Stac Li. Towering teeth Bird-crammed. Men spidered, scaled Over a void where one fall Could blacken time Forty miles The wheel spun, warping language The world weaved on Behind oiled womens fingers Picking at time Forty miles Over sheened cobbles to the bay Men and dogs taken last Out of a mornings haar To stranger seas in time

22

Walking to work Pausing to watch westering geese Cross the early tints of sky Formation fraying from V to S One day Ill fly away Remembering another morning They turned in air, downriver Whilst you slept My hand pinioning your bare shoulder Lips kissing your nape

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Mar 13, 2016

Mar 13, 2016 at 10:09 AM UTC

john-lindsay

FLIGHT FEATHERS

Walking to work Pausing to watch westering geese Cross the early tints of sky Formation fraying from V to S One day Ill fly away Remembering another morning They turned in air, downriver Whilst you slept My hand pinioning your bare shoulder Lips kissing your nape

10