NATURAL ALCHEMY
56 poems by
by J M Forrest
Copyright 2014 J M Forrest
Jane Merrill Forrest is a novelist and has two books published: a humorous fantasy called ‘Orders From Above’ (under J M Forrest) and a supernatural drama called ‘Flight of the Kingfisher’ (J Merrill Forrest). For information about Jane and her writing, please go to https://www.jmforrest.com
The paperback version of ‘Natural Alchemy’ has black and white illustrations to most of the poems. It is available from Amazon.
THE POEMS, in alphabetical order:
AGORAPHOBIA
Each morning
Outside
taps gently
on my door,
calling me
to come
and play.
Oh I would,
if only I could,
but Inside
pins me to the floor
I have to beg
Outside
to go away.
ANCESTOR
You will never know my name,
but all the same
I see that my scattered remains
intrigue you as you bag and tag
what the earth has preserved.
Take care as you lift up
the precious beads
my loved one gave me.
Treat with respect
the betrothal cup.
Oh, I remember how
we made our vows
as we walked around
the sacred tree.
How we clasped hands
affirming that I took him
and he took me.
But that was…
when?
Perhaps such knowledge
is in your keeping?
So I will stand and watch
as you carbon-date my bones
and analyse the stones
of my burial place.
I shall patiently wait
while you reconstruct my face
in wire and clay,
bringing my yesterday
into your today.
For I am as curious as you
to know if I was beautiful
and how long
I have been sleeping.
ASTRAL TRAVELLERS
Flying at 35,000 feet,
we wave
at the planes
passing by.
Startled faces gape
in disbelief,
oval faces framed
by oval windows,
round eyes
above round mouths
asking why
and how this can be.
We clasp hands
and laugh aloud
as we soar away
to our destination.
They are prisoners
of tin tubes
and timetables,
but we fly unfettered
as high
and higher
than they,
joyous and totally free.
BELIEVER
The man told anyone
who would listen
that his day job was
too down to earth
for someone destined
to meet aliens face to face.
He worked in a warehouse
just to earn the money
for what he needed
to gaze into outer space.
He heard tell of a sighting
over Romney Marsh,
saw a grainy home video
of an object of light
hanging stock-still in the sky
as if sitting for a portrait.
He set off with a map
and hot coffee in a flask,
certain that his time had come,
that his friends would wait.
His car was found the next day
on the outskirts of St Dunstan’s,
its engine still running.
The investigation went on for days,
probing scorch marks on the ground
and inexplicable traces of radiation.
People came and spoke to camera
as if they’d seen a hostile invasion.
The man was never found.
BLITZ
The shop offers empty shelves.
Where once were jars,
tins and myriad things,
mice skitter amongst old cartons
gathering dust.
Coins dropped from a careless pocket
lie camouflaged on a floor
the colour of rust.
Mavis stands behind the counter,
pinny in place, smile pinned on face,
waiting for her customers.
Old Fred needs a box of matches
to keep his pipe alight.
Mrs Jones wants fish paste
for Arthur’s sarnies;
he’s on watch tonight.
“They gotta keep their wits about ’em
the blitz ain’t gonna end any time soon.
You should shut up shop, Mavis,
it’s gonna be real bad tonight.
They’re cursing this full moon.”
Mavis stands behind the counter,
pinny in place, smile pinned on face,
waiting for her customers.
But no-one comes through
the boarded-up door.
There’s no Old Fred, nor Mrs Jones.
People passing by outside
barely remember ’44.
CARING
I’m sorry I couldn’t cope,
that my temper was sometimes short.
I tried so hard to look after you,
but you didn’t even remember my name.
I’d give you lunch at one o’clock
and at two you’d ask me when we’d eat.
I made scrambled eggs
when you complained the meat was tough.
I made endless cups of tea
that you said you wanted but never drank.
I’d ask if you needed the toilet
and you’d crossly say No,
and then fuss a few minutes later
because you were wet. Or worse.
I tried to be gentle when I bathed you,
but sometimes I wanted to bruise
those frail old limbs,
punish you for growing old
and losing your mind
before your body was ready to go.
I tried not to moan when night after night
I had to get up to stop you wandering
half-naked around the house.
Once you even got out onto the street.
I’m sorry I couldn’t cope,
but this is a lovely place
and the nurses will take care of you.
I promise to visit whenever I can.
I know you don’t believe me
but I’m doing this for both of us.
CHAOS THEORY
I am not fragile.
You may think it impossible,
but I really can fly in the rain.
So powerful am I
that the mere fluttering
of my paper-like wings
can cause a hurricane.
CLONE
A hundred cows
with the exact
same markings
A hundred noses
that look and feel
like slimed silk
They may be cute
They may be safe
But there are questions
their existence poses
and I’m not sure
I want to drink
their milk
CONCEPTION
As we lay
&nb
sp; in love
entwined
like clinging
climbing
flowers
another heartbeat
throbs to life
not yours
not mine
but ours
COUNSELLOR
I wait,
counting the silence in seconds,
waiting for it to begin.
A deep breath in,
and the marionette memories
come jerking into the room
as if nothing else matters.
An aching heart shatters
like brittle glass
struck by a spiteful stone.
I help to gather up the shards,
arrange them
into different patterns.
But they’re still too sharp,
too painful.
I push tissues across the table.
Sympathise as pastel shades
are shredded in damp,
embarrassed fists,
mopping up a lifetime of defeat.
The clock on the wall is discreet
but ruthless.
I uncap my pen
and open my diary.
An hour is never enough
to solve a crisis.
CULTURE SHOCK
Sit here they said
Music came from a silver box
and when it stopped
there was a parcel on my lap
Expectant eyes looked at me
Someone whispered
and they all stared
When the music began again
I was told to pass the parcel on
and soon we would all have cake
I do not understand
your initiation ceremonies
In my tribe
boys of my age
are sent out
to hunt lions
DAISY, DAISY
Have you ever
pulled the petals
off a daisy
one
by
one
to find out
if he loves you
or loves
you not?
Well
instead of
dismantling
a harmless flower
why don’t you
just
ask him?
DEAR JOHN
Of course I noticed the weight loss
and the change of hairstyle.
My pals said to ask her outright
why she was so late
getting home at night.
But I didn’t ask.
I was in denial.
She bought new clothes
and underwear in black and red.
Once she would have paraded them,
a fashion show just for me.
But not this time, and it’s been a while
since we had a tumble
in our perfumed bed.
In the pub an hour ago
my pals nudged me,
said they’d be worried
if their women behaved like that.
I left early,
my pint glass still half-full,
my heart empty.
After loud music and conversation
the silence hits hard.
There is a plain white envelope
on the mantelpiece
and I know without opening it
what I’ll find inside.
It won’t be a birthday card.
DECLARATION
I love you
so dearly
I declare
I’d walk
on hot coals
for you
You love me
so dearly
you declare
you’d not
ask me to
The soles
of my feet
are thankful
that your love
for me
is so true
DOMESTIC
[poem with sound effects]
[child crying]
come on now, be a good boy for mummy
stop messing about and eat your dinner
God I’m tired,
I don’t think there’s a bit of my body
that doesn’t ache.
It’s at times like these
I think my life has been
one big bloody mistake.
Had a real job this morning
covering up the bruises,
but my man can be so nice
when he chooses.
I tell him, One of these days
you’ll go too far,
one of these days you’ll kill me.
Still, I do love him when he’s sober.
It’s when he’s drunk
and I tell him it’s over…
I don’t mean it,
but he lashes out,
we scream and shout
and…
well,
isn’t that what marriage
is all about?
I won’t tell you again
STOP MESSING WITH YOUR FOOD
I couldn’t leave him.
I believe him when he says
he doesn’t mean to hurt me.
And then there’re the kids
and the baby.
OK I do worry that one day maybe…
No, let’s be realistic.
I’d leave him if he ever
laid a finger on the kids.
I don’t want us to be just a statistic,
yet another dysfunctional family,
so there’s no way
I’ll let my marriage hit the skids.
My broken bones will heal.
It’s broken homes
that do the damage.
[child giggling]
[spoon banging on table]
oh look at the bloody mess you’ve made
[slap]
[child screaming]
DOOMED LOVERS
You live your life
in the cool of the moon
I cannot survive
without the sun’s heat
We could be lovers
you and I
if only we could meet
But you are a night child
a midnight delight child
And I am afraid
of the dark
END OF THE AFFAIR
In the beginning
the harmony of skin on skin
reached the skies
where Beethoven
smiled to hear it.
Now you fear it,
flinching at the touch that once
heated your blood
and brought a blush
to your surrendering face.
Surrender is now a cold place.
A grey room
that once held a rainbow.
All those hopes and dreams
gone rotten.
The dance steps are forgotten.
You freeze beneath him
and he turns his face away,
his desperate, despairing body
shrinking.
Everything is sinking,
drowning in what
might have been.
The symphony is over
There is always silence
in the end.
EXHIBIT
I hang in the gallery.
Crusted blood and rust of nails
bloom on my limbs like lichen.
In the crowd of spectators
there is a man
clutching a claw hammer.
Did he drive in the nails
or has he come to prise them out?
I cannot read his conscience.
I see a woman,
pouring wine into a cup.
It seeps unnoticed
through porcelain cracks,
beading like mercury
on the cold stone floor
.
When she tips the cup
to my parched lips
there will be nothing
but love to quench my thirst.
There is a child,
wide-eyed with wisdom,
who reaches to touch
the signature on my skin.
As the darkness comes
I am content to know
that he understands
the message,
and my sacrifice
will not be forgotten.
EXTINCTION
Man kept killing ’til there was one, just one.
He had no concern of there being none.
So man followed the trail,
tracking, tracking,
telling himself boastful tales
of the others he’d taken.
Man wasn’t mistaken,
there was indeed one, just one.
The final meeting was a surprise.
Man found himself gazing into eyes
of gold-flecked contempt,
hating, hating,
knowing that it was man’s arrogance
that had taken everything
and now wanted him,
the last one, the only one.
Man didn’t tremble as he raised his gun,
as the beast faced him and began to run.
The first shot thundered,
booming, booming.
But the creature didn’t fall.
His own shocked and angry cries
battered Man’s ears, watered his eyes,
as the beast knocked him to the ground.
It was a shame that man hadn’t thought
that what he did was far from sport.
He heard the beast’s breath,
rasping, rasping,
as claws slashed at skin and bone.
Then with a mighty despairing roar,
the one, the last one, surrendered
and something wonderful was lost.
Man had expected to strut and boast,
to tell his story from coast to coast.
He’d not expected guilt,
burning, burning.
Had not expected to mourn the lost glory
of a living, breathing thing.
Sorry too late that those noble eyes,
once fire, were now cold ash.
Too late, Man suffered the realisation,
the freezing, ice-cold realisation,
deep in his claw-ripped heart,
aching, aching,
that he had irrevocably taken
something unique from the world.
He’d hunted to extinction;
now the creature was no more.
FALLING
there is no such thing
as love at first sight
but one day you see a stranger
across a crowded room
such a cliché
but there is no resistance