Loose Leaves
By
Elaine Peake
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© 2016 Elaine Peake
Table of Contents:
Homo Sapiens
High-wired
For the time being
Lunchtime at the library
Invisible
You leave like a lover
I’ve said
Words
Inspiration
Late Joys
Dark Skies
Surprised by Snow
From my Window
I remember
The Turn
The Artist and the Angel
The Wrong Kind of Apple: Interview with Snow White
Aspen
Homo Sapiens
draw near all you who shiver in the dark
come witness how a miracle begins
from seemingly dead wood I’ll raise a spark
to frighten each of you out of your skins
the panting breath, the glance behind
hope for forgiveness of your sins
fear bristling angry through the mind
as you work feverishly to make
nature’s own secrets fast unwind
a flame leaps out to make its mark
the darkness seems to shift and shake
leaves smoke and smoulder in its wake
warmth floods your very soul but hark!
behind you wolves begin to bark
High-Wired
first faltering steps
as nervous hands
push
then withdraw
go
don’t look down
you’re on your own
enjoy the view
applause
find perfect balance
now head up and smile
there is no down
in your mind’s eye
the safety net
virtual or real
your thoughts create what is
just
don’t look down
a wobble on the wire
fear floods from heart to feet
soon enough
the sawdust moment
still
don’t look down
For the Time Being
Let me go gentle
Don’t block me out
Jettisoning everything
Just to assuage your grief
I am not round the corner
Waiting to leap out at you for a joke
Frightening you half to death.
Maybe I am in another room
Gone on ahead to do a recce
If it helps you to think so, do.
Perhaps, somehow, it helps me too
And, sooner than either of us think,
We’ll go exploring.
But, for the moment
Hold fast those memories you’ve stored away
From childhood angst to bus-pass blues
And all the glorious gain and loss between
That’s where I’m living now
pro tem
Waiting for you.
Lunchtime at the Library
they’ve cleaned the city library up
and outside too
the curving slabs of smooth warm stone
the sentry of a cenotaph
stand as they were when new
city workers on the clock
each circumscribe a personal space
gaze past poppies, stone and names
inhabit individual worlds
register no other face
what if those names took flesh once more
surfaced into air and sun
with packs and puttees came to sit
between the lunchers’ vacant looks
the tupperware beside the gun
asked for a Lucifer to light a fag
wondering at this modern set
what’s the use of worrying
and was it all worthwhile
we gave you this the freedom to forget
Invisible
he lives behind closed doors
but that’s how it must be
after the war to end all wars
still able-bodied – surely he is glad?
this hero who has seen and done such things
and not come home stark mad quite mad
he has a name a number too
rolled round a medal’s bevelled edge
with ribbons always bright as new
another war, another sacrifice
the peace of mind of two fine sons
but their war never made him old
his patriotic time already lost invisible
and in the ground quite cold long cold
You Leave Like a Lover
you leave like a lover
laughing as you fend off
those startling early sunbeams
two hours sleep
the bed still waits unused
we talked and talked
and drank and sang and laughed
until the neighbours mutinied
so out you creep
a sihouette against the day
shoes in hand
not quite sure where you are
you leave like a lover
tonight
perhaps
you may arrive like one
I’ve said
I’ve said I love you and it means
I’ll be there when you need me most
won’t check your phone or read your post
I’ll eat meals made with aubergines
save you the Christmas tangerines
won’t nag you when you get engrossed
I’ve said I love you and it means
I’ll be there when you need me most
if you’re late in I won’t make scenes
I’ll always be your perfect host
the final piece of unburnt toast
the extra spoonful of baked beans
I’ve said I love you and it means
I’ll be there when you need me most
Words
when she said it I couldn’t believe it
my whole being drew back
my mouth said it couldn’t be true
though my heart oozed doubt
when they said it in twos and threes
I began to look over my shoulder
the world spoke, I shattered
into a million syllables
have you said the final word?
you are walking away now
from what we never said
Inspiration
Back to the five-barred gate
Bo-peep crook inked and primed
Brow furrowed
I survey an open field
Sun up sky blue scene set
But where’s the crew?
The first comes bleating
Begging to be heard
Before I can consider
Through one small gap
Romp the whole flock
Heads legs and tails
The black sheep as usual
Loudest of all
Then I see him
Shaggy apart alone
The hippy of the bunch
And I know
With his help
I can knit a masterpiece
Late Joys
bright frocks broad smiles
old friends in fine display
new-forged
connections
witness the measured step
from one world to another
moving in grace and light
in lace and light
forwards into a dream made real
love comes full circle
mysteriously resolves
in ends and in beginnings
full-throated song and heartfelt hopes breathe out
wildflowers and warm stone
reviving centuries of reverence
and passion
petals take flight and dazzle
where loved and loving gather
and with this shower of wishes
Spring blooms in Autumn
Dark Skies
bold Orion on his back
winks at Venus
below the Southern Cross
all the world through time
should be in love with this
swimming in the Milky Way
in spangled suits like cosmic clowns
claiming our kinship
Odysseus on a hostile sea
Odin on the sacred tree
a lifetime’s lookings
spinning in his sightless head
Galileo Galilei
while we wheel and blur
with the world’s turning
our eyes wide as forever
Surprised by Snow
lightly they go
you’d hardly know they’d gone
falling like snow
no flake the same as any other one
unique mosaics
fretwork icing
frames familiar sights
a branch
a stone
sugar-coating on chrysanthemums
outlilying the lilies
ice-leaves now
thick sheaves now
drifting one giant feather duvet
where all must sleep
a world once seen and felt and peopled
lives only in my head
dead winter roses rise
robed all in white
the earth still turns
though all is green and grown again
frozen
stilled life
weighs
heavy
on the heart
From My Window
the daffodils are out around the tree
this surly sunless morning
taking their turn at spreading
yellow light
in small but perfect arcs
the tree itself
forgets
how autumn flayed
winter froze
false springs see-sawed
catching the rising melody of flowers
it lifts up, joins the song
its tiny buds a chorus
to the trumpeting sopranos
I Remember
mesembryanthemums
gaudy daisies greedy for the sun
snapdragons purple, red and fizzy lemon
their tribal warpaint bright in every corner
the dainty dancing of the London Pride
now near, now far
bees
dizzy with choice
hover besotted
in the opiate air
high over all
the whispering of a thousand diamond leaves
a secret poplar symphony
while down below
step by sun-gorged step
soft yielding grass
beneath my toes
crushes into perfume
I remember
the drowsy after-dinner
satisfaction of summer
The Turn
she swings her gossamer green skirts
a little dusty now
pirouettes along the promenade
past late intrepid walkers and the last ice-cream van
she stands bewildered
as leaves change colour, flutter to a harder earth
but look, her gentle sister calls her
glowing in a sturdy russet dress
hair the colour of September fields
braided with brown and gold
she brushes dew-hung cobwebs from her face
with a slow smile
the green girl is almost danced out
birds wheel and flutter their fond goodbyes
a fingertip touch
she sighs walks slowly over the hill
trailing daisies, buttercups and speedwell
in her bedraggled sun-bleached hair
her sister turns, strides on
dancing bonfires in her eyes
dark crushed berries at her mouth
sweet chestnuts in her hand
The Artist and the Angel
on the erection of a glass barrier at Oscar Wilde’s tomb
30 November 2011
forty years you lay
encased
embraced
by Epstein’s feisty angel
lovers came and lovers went
wept
prayed
left notes and flowers
another forty years
your guardian’s power neutered
the luscious slick
of pilgrims’ loving lips
‘a rash of red graffiti’
grinds him down
grain by stony grain
a cry goes up
to save the art
that guards the artist’s bones
discouragement
reflecting truth
and lies
behind the glass
the broken angel flies
while
down below
the demon sleeps and smiles
The Wrong Kind of Apple: Interview with Snow White
to tell the truth I had got rather bored
don’t get me wrong
the dwarfs could not have been kinder
and of course they were only trying to protect me
but day after day indoors
let me tell you
cleaning up after seven extremely tidy dwarfs does not take very long
and the washing? – just a few smalls
I have to hand it to my stepmother
those disguises were good
but I would have opened the door to anyone
I was desperate for a chat, a change of scene
I wish I’d have woken up in that glass coffin on the hill
the view must have been wonderful
then when I did wake up – this dishy prince proposes
so no I’m not sure I would say it was the wrong kind of apple
Aspen
trembling leaves a soothing sea
as I drift into life, fresh from the dark
now I can reach the shiny bark
strip leaves, smell drying sap
white flesh shocked bare
inhale the greenness in my lap
gales of dancing frenzy
toss yellow diamonds on the grass
snap jumping-jacks mid-air on bonfire stacks
crunch into nothing on the garden path
you’re cursed some say
Christ’s cross hewn from your slender girth
but I could wish your thrilling song
my last sound on this trembling earth
THANK YOU
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