Reflected light, from a cloud-covered sky, that is not black enough to suppress this songbird's entreaty to the heavens, for dawn not to break just yet...Then, a blackbird, in my mind's-eye, releases a few notes into this morning's dark, and cares not for a listener...It is a song, sung in not-knowing...i open my arms, eyes, ears and heart to the silence that ensues...i am engulfed in a silence that does not know...

First "frog" sounds, at four this March morning, spring from the old pond - a "voice" of ecstacy, in the soft rain, falling on everything, as i pad bare-foot to catch a glimpse, of what is truly, a toad. But it IS now Spring...it IS now Spring...and i feel its sounds and stirrings in warm rain on my skin, when it is impossible to sleep... impossible to sleep...

for GENEVIEVE

She wanted masts and nets.

She wanted spray at sunrise.

She wanted a fisherman...someone to bring home the bacon.

She wanted tuna and swordfish.

She wanted bass and tarragon...mackerel and rosemary.

She wanted garlands of flowers.

Roses...She wanted roses.

She wanted laurels like the Romans.

She wanted laurels around her lover's head.

She wanted Italy...especially Sicily.

She wanted a hut near the shore.

She wanted to go to a church and light candles.

She wanted Etna's eternal fire in her

 veins.

She wanted little bambinos...babies would be too tame.

She wanted to sleep soundly with them each night.

She had a dream of a fisherman...her lover.

She wanted a Phoenician...a Greek...or a Carthaginian.

She would not settle for less.

She wanted to see the bay at Taormina.

She wanted Sicily..."fairest garden of the Mediterranean"...

She wanted masts and nets.

She wanted sunrise and spray.

She wanted tuna...swordfish... roses...garlands...dreams...

She had to have dreams...

*

(Hayling Island - 1975/76)

*

 

LITTLE RED BOOK : 6 POEMS

 

 

(i)

Everlasting note

girlish shoulders

 hushed

pale & hidden

  subside.

 

 

(ii)

Precious heart

kissed every weakness

eyes answered eyes.

 

(iii)

Mignonette

her love-letter

fills the place

again.

 

(iv)

Dawn mother

 accustomed to Love

smiled at God

we prayed.

 

(v)

Soul-play

earthly favours

 spoke of praise.

 

(vi)

Golden limbs

sunshine and jungfrau 

that sweet content

remembered.

*

(Written in June 2011, i enjoyed playing with/ rewriting these poems over a period of almost 2 hours tonight - 19 feb. 2013)

*



These 2 poems of mine saw the light of day in THE "NEW YEAR 2011 ISSUE" of "THE MERRI CREEK : POEMS & PIECES, #21"

TWO POEMS:

10. XI. 2012

CANDLE FLAME
GUTTERING
AS IF FANNED
OR IN
GENTLE BREEZE
SHETLAND'S AIRES
IN THE ROOM
HARP  PIPE  & FIDDLE ETC.
AH!
IT'S THE BREATH
THAT STIRS.

*

14. XI. 2011

CRACKED WINDOWS
RELEASE STEAM &
CONDENSATION.
CAULIFLOWER PICKLES
IN MORNING CHILL.
INSTANT MISO
& STOVE
FOR WARMTH
WHILE POT SIMMERS
FOR HOURS.
B'FAST RICE CREAM
HEALS.
NO SALTED PLUMS.
SCALLIONS TO GARNISH
LATER-ON.

*
(Golden GOJI Hermitage 15.2.2012)

*

Another Francesca - Wales, 1968 - She was only the Landlord's daughter but../ Self-portrait of the artist as a young girl...

 

 

}i{



"FRANCESCA BERTINI...Francesca Bertini...and how are you today ?" was the greeting my mother used to get from an Italian neighbour as she got home from school. My mother always wondered how this name had been conjured-up by this kind and elderly woman. My mother's name was "BERTHE", so the "BERTINI" part was understandable, but why "FRANCESCA"?...And why did i think of this today ? as i sat on the number 3 bus, coming home from town this morning. My mother has been "gone" almost 3 years now, and this is the first time, in all that time, that this little tale has come to mind. "Francesca Bertini, Francesca Bertini." What happened to that little schoolgirl from Alexandria?