poetry diary

I rhyme to see myself, to set the darkness echoing. (Seamus Heaney, from Personal Helicon)
November 10, 2012

Against the hostile sun, a man (Al Fahidi Fort, Dubai)

Against the hostile sun, a man
came here once to shape this place,
while above the hawks circled slowly
and the sun burned.

With mud alone, and thought, sharp cries,
the fort rose, in the half-light,
while above the hawks circled slowly
and the sun burned.

Like a sandcastle, for sand men,
but standing, disturbing dust;
above the hawks circled slowly,
and the sun burned.

Under the hostile sun, strangers
sometimes came, even with guns,
and above the hawks circled slowly
and the sun burned.

After a while, they understood;
the walls were not to keep them out,
and above the hawks circled slowly
and the sun burned.

The fort still stands today, with men
on the ramparts, looking in.
Above the hawks circle slowly
and the sun burns.

—————

Al Fahidi Fort is now a museum in the centre of old Dubai.

Posted on dVerse and  Poets United.

16 Comments
November 5, 2012

On Eastern shores

Seductive sunlight,
warming turquoise seas,
recalls my first kiss.

3 Comments
November 3, 2012

Diving off Jumeira

Pearls amongst fishes;
autumn sun on the seabed.
I hold my breath.

———–

Posted at haiku heights.

9 Comments
November 3, 2012

In the Gulf of Oman

I feel the waters’ pull, floating,
and fishes glinting eyes, wary,
watching; from corals bubbles rise,
growing, as I breathe, and roll.

I feel the waters’ pull, drifting;
wet sunbeams crossing sands, diamonds
shifting, warming, waltzing, lazy;
woven with the flow, and ebb.

I feel the waters’ pull, deepening;
a darker shade of blue, misting –
imagined bigger fish, watching,
rising. Hastened by fear, I turn.

————-

I have always loved swimming, and rarely get the chance to swim in such clear and warm waters (and full of life)  as the Gulf of Oman. It’s beautiful, although there is still that nagging fear when it gets too deep to see the bottom that there might be something big and hungry down there! 

I have tried to capture something of the rhythm and feeling of the waves in this poem.

Posted at Poets United and dVerse.

17 Comments
November 3, 2012

Dubai

Around glass towers,
sand floats as mist, settling
if movement stops.

————-

I have been to visit my brother in Dubai.

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October 17, 2012

The Spiegeltent (for Heather)

I didn’t see the mirrors for a while,
beneath the velvet warmth
of cosy history.

Then you asked,
and the mirrors captured us,
as they caught those who danced and sang
between the wars.

Each dancer’s dreams and hopes are in these mirrors still;
kaleidoscopes of humanity
(which keep out the rain)
augmented now by yours
and mine.

In the spirit of this Spiegeltent,
we live, in joy;
knowing what’s to come,
and what endures.

———————–

I spent most of Sunday with a friend of mine at the Cheltenham Literary Festival, and we had lunch in a Spiegeltent, which was an unexpected pleasure. Spiegeltent is Dutch for mirror tent, and according to Wikipedia they date from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. I felt ours dated from sometime in the 1920s, and perhaps did indeed host singers like Marlene Dietrich in her prime.

2 Comments
October 15, 2012

Autumn morning

Blue autumn morning,
still to the rising birds’ touch,
while leaves glow coal-red.

————-

Published on dVerse and  Poets United.

13 Comments
October 5, 2012

The last stand

If now be the time, then let them come.

I see one among countless leaves falling; the serrated edge
and yellowing veins against the green.
I feel the tips of grass stems catch the leaf’s damp surface
and hold it, in the autumn light, above the hidden ground.

That same light on their spears, glinting and beautiful; precise,
and honed by craftsmen; strangers like me.
I imagine one among many, held up to the light – admired by the blacksmith
and his daughter; his life’s work, and love,
sharp.

I think of my children, at home, the lives they’ll live still,
laughing in the sun, which will rise again.
I think of leaves and spears and people, and the sun.

The buckle on my neighbour’s belt, dull iron across worn leather;
much used, and moving gently with his breath;
condensing in the air.

That buckle will endure.

Mist covers the valley, and their spears dissolve.
The leaves fall more slowly now.

If now be the time, then let them come.
If this be the place, then let me stand.
For now time stops,
and here I am.

————————

Running a small engineering business in England in 2012 is not quite the same as standing with Harold against the Normans in 1066, but sometimes it feels like it. Today was such a day.

Posted at Poets United.

12 Comments
October 4, 2012

October morning

I fly with the early morning autumn light,
wary of the cold, damp leaves (warming slowly to a glow)
but alighting on a raindrop, spider’s web weight,
and sparkling.

A bridgehead for the rising sun, in this October day,
multiplied in the water, I fly faster, drawing arrows
in the air; pointing at puddles and clouds,
strangely red.

But not for long; lightened by the rising murmur
of a milk float and early morning cars, becoming white
and dissolving to a china sky; a seductive,
doubtful blue.

A split horse chestnut case lies on the path,
bright green and white, like the clouds,
and slightly battered, unlike the nut;
glinting brown.

—————–

Inspired by my walk to work this morning.

Posted on dVerse.

6 Comments
September 29, 2012

A last haiku

Words floating, drifting,
falling like snow from my mind;
to melt on reading.

——-

For haiku heights September challenge. Today’s prompt is ‘free’, and it’s the last of the 30 for September.


Thank you to everyone who’s read and commented on my posts, and especially Leo for organising the challenge. It has been difficult to keep going at times, but very enjoyable, and I feel I’m just beginning to learn about haiku and to see how hard it is to write successful ones. Now I think I might have a rest and do something different for a few days!

23 Comments