on a foreign shore: icing-tipped waves
toss tinsel into the clear air. We play
at Wenceslas in the sand, taking it in turns
to be the page. We look for sea holly and sing
carols under the curious gaze
of a parrot in a palm tree.
Tag: love poetry
swan song
When I iron the white cotton shirts, slide creases
from collar, cuff and tail, I weigh the heft and fullness
of a changing power.The dragon noses mother of pearl, and her hot breath
insinuates the twisted threads which swell
and straighten as she sighs.My mind spins graveyard nettles, and I
am the sister of swans, accused, condemned and bound
in silence, intent on my task.Each sleeve, a spread wing, offers hope.
Then he dons the white shirt, puts on
the power suit and quiet socks; he knots a careful tie
and slips his feet into immaculate brogues.I would be Leda to his Jove.
(This poem won the 2007 Barnet Open Poetry Competition, judged by Fleur Adcock. I see that it is online on the Barnet Arts website without any formatting, so I thought I’d post it here as it should appear.)
don't confuse the narrator 