Greeku
An old man in a suit
gathers wild fennel from the verge.
A wryneck calling.
—
Fried Beauty
Glory be to cod for battered things,
for chips as golden-glisten as a suntanned thigh;
for fresh-made doughnuts, croutons, chicken wings.
All things that saute, sizzle, fry,
praise them.
—
A poem
Her breath is vine leaves, crushed in the hand,
and her sweat is green olives.
Under the plane tree [...]
Posts tagged with ‘napowrimo 2007’
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napowrimo #24-28
29 April 2007 – 3:02 pm
napowrimo 24: no title
26 April 2007 – 8:07 am
Looking down into the valley
and seeing them fly one after another
across the olive groves
like flakes of gold,
or sparks, or dandelion petals,
or some kind of elemental spirit,
eight golden orioles;
I find myself thinking
I do not deserve this.
napowrimo 23: Just theory
24 April 2007 – 10:28 am
The ball is round, the game lasts 90 minutes; everything else is just theory. Sepp Herberger.
Except that the ball is oval.
The bar has spent a lot of money
on a widescreen telly
and isn’t going to waste it.
Passes from end to end
are noticeably quicker
that the ones from side to side,
and when a player bends over
to rearrange his [...]
napowrimo #21-22: Greek snippets
23 April 2007 – 7:55 am
21:
The waiter asks “How was the food?
Was everything OK?”
But I don’t know the Greek for
“The cumin cured pork was so salty
that my tongue is puckered.”
So I said “yes.”
22:
As the waves break high
against the rocks,
a small boy throws the town into the sea
one rock at a time.
napowrimo #something: not just yet
22 April 2007 – 4:09 pm
I have actually written a poem of a sort, but this internet connection is in a travel agent, and even by the low standards of ambience typical of internet cafes, it’s just not terribly thrilling.
And possibly more to the point, all I’d had to eat all day is a cheese pie. I came in here [...]
napowrimo #20 - shameless filler poem
21 April 2007 – 3:52 pm
Down in the benthic darkness
among the ghosts and mud
hagfish gnaw at the bones of a whale
as death rains from above.
—
I think I’ve recycled not just the first line from yesterday’s poem, but the last line from some previous poem a while ago. But it’ll have to do.
napowrimo #19: Down in the benthic darkness
20 April 2007 – 3:54 pm
Down in the benthic darkness
where curious creatures dwell
is a species of hermit crab so big
it uses a boat for a shell.
The hatchlings start in a bathtub or fridge
and when that gets too snug,
first they move to a dinghy or sloop
and then to a sampan or tug.
Nobody knows how big they can grow
but don’t be surprised [...]
napowrimo #18 - squiblet
19 April 2007 – 9:35 am
How nice it is
to be in a location
where sunglasses
are not an affectation.
napowrimo 17: The Death of Maradona
18 April 2007 – 2:46 pm
I’m in a Greek bar, watching football;
Giggs, Rooney and Ronaldo on the break
so fast and effortless
it almost seems like cheating.
Then at half time,
among the trailers for upcoming matches
in the Bundesliga and the NBA,
a slow-mo montage of Diego Maradona.
Mainly the fat Maradona;
waving to an screaming crowd,
singing with some chisel-cheekboned pop star,
waddling out onto a football pitch
in [...]
napowrimo #15 & 16: ‘Gatwick, 5am’ and a haiku.
17 April 2007 – 1:13 pm
Poems for the last two days; I haven’t written today’s yet.
Gatwick, 5am
Were Dante writing the Commedia today
he’d surely model one infernal circle
on 5am at Gatwick airport.
Well, maybe not. Even piped music,
sulry staff, strip lighting
and the vacant stares
of travellers only awake enough
to slowly masticate
a sandwich
are not as bad as being made
to swim in boiling pitch.
In [...]
nopowriday
15 April 2007 – 10:11 pm
I’m off to Crete tomorrow, and with all the packing and procrastinating I didn’t write a poem. And I have to get up in about 4 hours time [yipes] so no poem today. I’ll try to write two tomorrow— I have a longish flight to fill time on.
Posting may be sporadic in the next couple [...]
napowrimo 14: Μπορίς να φας τον καρπό;
14 April 2007 – 10:32 pm
Please use a new blade.
Shave it all off!
I need an adaptor plug.
Can I see it?
Do I need to pay upfront?
I have a doctor’s certificate for this medication.
I regretted it (lit: It came out of my nose.)
Where can we hire an uncrewed boat?
Please give me a slice.
I’ll recommend it to my friends.
I’m not happy with these [...]
napowrimo 13: shoe limerick
13 April 2007 – 10:26 pm
An old woman who lived in a shoe
said “what is a person to do?
There’s a hole in the roof
and to tell you the truth
it reeks of old feet in here, too.”
~~~
Not in the mood for real poetry.
napowrimo 12: Poetry Thursday exercise
12 April 2007 – 11:11 pm
In ancient art, birds always seem to carry
a hint of the unworldly;
their fragile bodies just the physical expression
of some god
intruding on our world.
Flight and song; the essence of occult.
We praise them in bowls of water
left as mirrors
for them to bathe in,
and with propitiatory offerings of seed.
~~~~
At Poetry Thursday this week they invited people to post [...]
napowrimo 11: Making Pizza
11 April 2007 – 10:20 pm
Start with Tipo 00 flour.
So fine and white, it makes your usual flour
seem hard and vulgar,
and makes a dough as silky and elastic as
(supply your own lascivious image here).
For two, use half a pound of flour
with a quarter-pint of water.
Add olive oil, salt and yeast,
knead until smooth and springy
and leave an hour or two;
split into [...]
napowrimo 10: Hollow
10 April 2007 – 10:44 pm
I aspire to be meringue—
sweet airiness
just scorched enough for flavour—
but recently I seem to be
a rock cake.
Or on a good day,
a doorstep sandwich.
napowrimo 9: Heraclitean Fire
9 April 2007 – 9:18 pm
Beneath us rock stretches and folds like toffee.
A bracken frond unfurls. A tadpole hides
beneath a lilypad. Within the window
of an aeroplane a film of condensation
glitters. A glacier scrapes across a rock.
In someone’s ear the wobbles of a magnet
turn electricity to funk. A krait
splits its own skin. A girl stroking a cat
sparks static. Kimchee softens and [...]
napowrimo 8: salmon
8 April 2007 – 11:16 pm
Salmon throw themselves upriver
hurrying to die.
The cones upon the pine trees shiver
at the spirit thrusting by.
~~~~
another short one, I’m afraid.
napowrimo 7: golf limerick
8 April 2007 – 7:59 am
There was a young golfer from Troon
Who wanted to play on the moon
To his horror he found
When he started his round
That he kept hooking his drives.
~~~~~
I was kind of tired yesterday. So this is late and silly.
napowrimo 6: blackbird triolet
6 April 2007 – 8:29 pm
The blackbird on the rooftop sings
ancient songs of sex and death.
The woman in the garden thinks
the blackbird on the rooftop sings
a a joyful welcome to the Spring.
But with each lascivious breath
the blackbird on the rooftop sings
ancient songs of sex and death.