RS Thomas ruminated
he forgot
did he not
the illusion of original sin
that made the conundrum
that made the unravelling
seem to be the answer
pray no
pray rather for a prayer
that is divest of ego
at the sharp edge of toppling
grasp at that
and hang on for dear life
the answer is on its way
i read this dread
i am frightened by this
does time stop at the end of the world
don’t know and don’t know why
but i’m afraid of this
the cogs don’t fit
and all that shit
unable therefor to run away
from the magnetism
the broken light in the prism
fragmented you said
i’m sore afraid that this would happen
snappen kraken blacken
all the kings’s horses
all the king’s men
cannot put me together again
kiddo
blood
how many swear words
are brushed into this painting
run your fingers over the hardened paint
just wait ‘till i get you home
another poem by
RS Thomas
how often his poems hold you
there in disbelief
dumbstruck
turning his words
over and over
but it never is
or will be
but somehow
we turn his page
for him
and we fall out
autumn morn
then
a rustle in the leaves
there’s something
in
there
points >>>
the dog cocks her head
the cat crouches
it’s a breeze
across
my coffee and croissant
sunlight soft
on closed eyes
inhale
there …
neolithic cave drawing
palm to palm
pass the past
a port in the storm
of the time when she drew
the dark around her
singing in the candlelight
the chase was on
down all the caves of hunting
an explanation for it all
dearth called for breakfast
at the breakfast table
a dearth of the dead
they were toast
that wouldn’t stay down
the curse of the un-bread
the pallor of the pollarded
partly dead the party gathered
incensed by thoughts
burnt by offence
beating the table with their knives
beat beat beat
the food of the braying mob
was a fast breaking
trust me i was there
the zombie with aplomb
back silvered back
what mirror doesn’t insist
that you come back
just to be sure
that a different you
is taken away
the receipts on the spike
grow as tall as the stories
in this house of mirrors
the lie is reflected
back and forth
a perpetually adjusted tie
editing
is that splat dross
or the icing on the cake
leave it
there
lick your fingers
mmmm the muse
the muse
gasp
you can’t speak without breathing
for air is free speech
you cannot write a poem without the muse
who comes uninvited and without a fee
if you stop speaking or writing until you are paid
you will smother creativity
and maybe
just maybe
i will never return
it said
chaplet
on lengthening vines
all the rest less
birds of summer
talk is of going south
of following the old birds
their taste tales of Africa
with their tails in the air
are you ready
steady …
twittering
overwintering
the cat’s dog days
a cat stalks
the sun
in the lavender stalks
it all talks of
the dog days of summer
that have been seen off
how the words fall
that have seen it all
the cat twirls three times
and dozes off
just sayings
in the lost woods
the voices of my mum and dad
the funny sayings they had
a fire to warm me
now that i am lost in the turning
they were such strange sayings
head under the pillow stuff
dark window stuff
distant train stuff
to who
will i turn to
now that the turntable is
sending me back down the track
muttering all those sleepy sayings
just one more for the road
if not now then when
i said that one day i was going to visit
she said if not now then when
and i thought and thought
i was still thinking when they said
your time is up
