let not words defeat me

in the chaos of this place.

I like to speak of abstraction,

tidy places.



I like my washing blowing high,

fresh winds and freedom,

scented with robins eggs

and butter flight.



I lived in a flat once, balconied

and still have bad dreams.

©sbm

Fending off scrubland and bare, blue mountain
Logroño huddles in a heap and appears to slide
Almost lazily away from the slow-moving river.
Originality created and arranged easily
By the gloom trapped inside each filthy passage.
Garbage piles against *****, brown walls,
Crammed together and splintering in the sun.
And now and again a scrap of paper
Will fill huge as a sail and deny these still
October nights with a careless movement,
******, obtrusive and far too sudden,
Like the iron bridge which astonishes the dark
With such bright lights and emptiness, asking
For the beige mac, the turned-up collar and trilby,
The mysterious meeting, the garbled message,
When there is only me and the stone Roman bridge,
Illuminated and from another time.
The road from Santiago and the sandalled
Pilgrim loaded down with belief are no more than
A thing remembered or to wish for. But still,
High above the town, the twin Baroque towers
Of the cathedral resist change, insist on
More than a casual glance as I stand here now,
Balconied above the square, safe with French songs,
Edith Piaf and my cultivated tongue
Which nobody understands, and their so strange
Words which I try to learn, and don’t.
Then suddenly to see you simply among
These narrow streets and crowds of people,
Long boots and beautiful, is more than enough
To recall something bright in life after all.

From where i'm now sat
Within my balconied flat
I espy just beyond my windowsill
The ruins of the castle, on the hill
Rooftops below, are now coated in white
From the extra snowfall, overnight
Where the snow has fallen, for hundreds of years
The silence lies heavy, like frozen tears
Pirouetting snowflakes, natures ballet, Arabesque
A snow filled sky, a wonderland, so picturesque
Still the castle ruins, look down from the hill
That once had life, but now lies still
Where once kings, and queens, allegedly presided
Over which dragons daringly, and dangerously glided
Still the snow comes down, and decries
Like sheep's wool falling from the skies
White, and pure, and beautiful, and free
A frozen horizon, as far as the eyes can see
But soon, the snow will eventually melt
And the land will soften, and turn to felt
The skies will turn an azure blue, from a silvery grey
And the colours of Spring, will light up our day
With the butterflies, and bees, and birds in full song
The sun will grow warmer, and the days will be long
Yet i'll still remember the cool beauty, of the snow filled skies
With a myriad of memories, and dreams in my eyes
by Jemia