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A CASE
I rest my case
full of busy little animals working treadmills and pulley systems and bicycle generators, digging holes and filling them again, endlessly cutting prairies with nail scissors, painting Forth Bridges from beginning to end, ad infinitum moving whole continents with tea-spoons
my case is full of these colourful little creatures all quite happy.
I rest it. _______________________________________________________________________
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This morning
This morning I saw a blackbird in an empty tree that was growing stubbornly in a small front garden
With traffic Continuous, in a city oblivious.
I heard the bird sing the dawn chorus
on it's own
above everything it's notes rang out.
If only I could leave. ________________
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Ireland Holiday.
All good things come to an end.
Sneer: vicious, barbed wire rusty edges.
A happy time was had by all all good things come to an end.
Bare your teeth, bite the hand that doles out good times then takes them back.
Put: the sunsets into a black, lead-lined box, bury it in mud.
Put: the grey, stone hills the curlew's call the rock wall the torn sky the seabird's cry the warm wind the salt sea the soft arm the breath of life the embrace the laughter that releases dry leaves and flying bullets into a black box (lead-lined for preservation) and bury it out on the mud flats deep so it won't be found for a million years
then
wander back to the concrete jungle: twisting of limbs paint scraper of skins sandpaper of bones.
All good things
Come
to an end.
(Ireland)
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Dinnertime (at Portslade docks)
The breeze rustles my hair it feels cold on the back of my neck
but the sun is warm it cooks my face
smell of tar
someone whistles long and lonely on the other side of this dark green river someone whistles as they work busy with their own business
a lorry creaks it's gears while silent, solid ships lie heavy on the water quiet, giant cranes angular and manmade are beautiful in their efficiency
the sky above is blue and open so open and free Calling, calling, calling me
the river too says “come with me I'll take you to places you've never seen”
but I mustn't stay with these wonderful things I must go back to work
for I am only allotted an hour for dinner. __________________________________ |
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Tony Chapman B.A.(Hons.) |
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Singer/songwriter, painter/sculptor. |
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Balancing |
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Box: |
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Pet Shop Window, (London Poem 5 |
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(All poems on this website were written by Tony Chapman and are copyrighted.) |
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"Writing poetry and creative writing are also a large part of my life. (I write best in the neutral space of a café, where no-one knows me.(J.K.Rowling wrote the early Harry Potter books in a café in Edinburgh, so I'm in good company!). (For inspiration on creative writing, check out the brilliant book: "Writing Down the Bones" by Natalie Goldberg). I have written poetry since I was 14, when I first discovered Dylan Thomas. His rich, strange imagery shocked me into a new awareness. I only won one school prize ever, and that was for art. As a prize, I was able to choose my own book. I chose " The Poems Of Dylan Thomas ", and never looked back. Later, Frederico Garcia Lorca had a profound impact on me, and I carried a tattered copy of his work from the "Penguin Collected Poets" series, (a brilliant publication), along with my copies of Salvatore Quasimodo, Appolinair and Mirosluv Holub's poetry with me for years and years. The four books accompanied me from bedsit to bedsit, from country to country, becoming tattier and tattier. Finally, the Mirosluv Holub book got signed by the poet himself! I told him the story of this much travelled, falling apart poetry book, and Mirosluv signed it and wrote, inside the cover: "To Tony, after many a summer". A magic moment. My own poetry and creative fiction is sort of "stream of consciousness", combined with a personal, emotional expression and a slightly bemused, but, I hope, compassionate observation of the surreality of life around me. I like to think my writings are also, occasionally, humorous. I think writing humor is the most difficult writing of all.." |
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The Chocolate Devil.
Last night the Chocolate Devil entered me so easily
the chocolates sat there in their open box waiting
all I did was reach out an innocent hand: a harmless, silent move and a bird sings and a valley of sunshine and daffodils surrounds me and nothing is wrong ever again because I can now eat chocolate
always.
The Chocolate Devil got into me last night
no big temptation no fuss just one o’clock in the morning, silence, everyone asleep
and me and an open box of chocolates
like friends sharing the same table. ___ |
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