Let us kick the Sky
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Let us kick the Sky
Take my arm and let us go upon our merry way,
And I shall whistle happy tunes to lift our feet of clay;
One step forward, then again; let’s kick our toes up high;
We shall be so fun-filled, dear; well poke them at the sky.
Don’t be slow as off we go, your breast, my upper arm;
A comfort to my soul and heart; I sense your inner warmth:
And I will banter with you, dear: and lightly dance you may,
As we together – always one, go on our merry way.
How your laugh makes lighter, the skies and too the heart;
I loved you from that moment when we made our happy start.
If you sometimes turn to thought,
That journey’s end will be for naught;
Raise your face and lift your heart;
We’ll both go back; repeat the start.
The Unseen Guest
There's a skeleton inside me, perhaps you didn’t know;
It stays with me both night and day, goes everywhere I go.
You may tease but as I say; I tell you it is true,
And if you have a mind to know, there’s one inside you too.
At exercise it’s not the best, and when it bends it groans;
It’s only what you might expect, for it is only bones.
If they took me all away and left bare bones to see,
Perhaps you’d better know, my dear, the other part of me.
Now if we have a skeleton inside of you and me,
Let’s make no bones about it; we never want it free.
Unseen, unloved, devoted; it is with us to the breath;
We breathe our last, our twosome joined by someone known as death.
Michael Walsh ©
Both whimsical of course, and like most poetry, take it as you find it. Both were penned yesterday (28.11.12) during an idle coffee break. I recently published my third poetry collection: Diamonds Last Forever. As I don’t write poetry for money I am not interested in royalties. 70 percent of the cover price of each copy is passed to a Latvia children’s charity.
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THE STORM
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
THE SHIP’S WATCHMAN
Soft tread of heel upon the deck;
And breeze as cold as dawn.
On lookout watch the time goes slow;
For sweetheart he shall mourn.
The watchman treads the lonely deck,
His pace will dance to rhyme -
With masts and spars that roll and pitch;
When bound for tropic clime.
Oh, Lord! The night is long, so long;
The lonely watch that keeps;
The night parade while stars cascade,
And shipmates restless sleep.
Tonight there's no horizon,
Where the dark sea meets the sky.
I wish that land was close to hand,
To hear the seagull's cry.
To watch from ocean twilight:
Till the breaking of the dawn,
While dolphin trails and pods of whales;
Keep company till the morn’
THE STORM
Forked lightning flashed above me and it lit a fearful sight;
Of crashing waves and washing decks and torn sails put to flight.
And through the crashing thunder - designed to scare I'm sure;
I screamed back my defiance; I even called for more.
For this was I and Nature; in combat we were locked.
I raised my arm up to the sky: "Give me more!" I mocked.
Again the lightning fizzled and came straight to my heart.
I begged the storm to give its all and now it played its part.
Excitement grew inside me, though mortal I am free;
And when I saw the stalk of death I would not let it be.
For I would go down fighting; no, my spirit wouldn't break.
All that it could give me, Aye! And more I knew I'd take.
"What's the matter with you?" I screamed back in my rage:
"Is this the best that you can do in this the war you wage?
Unleash your bolts of lightning and let your thunders roar -
And when you've done the worst you can you'll find I'll still want more."
Again the lightning dazzled as I raised my rain-soaked arm:
"Come!" I called contemptuously. "This is but a calm!"
The gods unleashed their fury yet my boat and I were one:
A clutch of wood to others, but to me it was a son.
I fought back burning teardrops to see my ship so torn:
Broken spars and rigging, yet did it look forlorn?
No never, quite impossible; imbued with fight like I:
It fought the waves, the wind and spray and joined me in my cry.
"Let your lightning's crackle and let your thunders roar!"
The wind rose to a fearful shriek and at the rigging tore.
It vented its full fury and all hell did it set free;
I fought the wind and lightning and my boat fought with the sea.
I shook my fist with fury as my shirt tore from my back;
A crested wave engulfed us both, I heard the lightning crack.
Through the mighty heavens the thunder lasted long;
I held on to the sheets and mast and then gave forth with song.
I had never sung that song before, composed I know not where.
I sung of heroes dead and gone, of valiance deed and dare.
And then I had it beaten and its fury was all gone.
The sea had lost its passion and its worst had now been done.
What a sight I must have been as on the thwarts I lay;
Exhausted yet still noble - for man had won the day.
If I had not defeated the raging storm that night;
If I had failed to hold the siege against its raging might -
And death had come to claim me, as yes it might have done;
I would have gone down fighting, and still I would have won.
My spirit is unbroken, for that is mine alone.
The earth can have the rest of me; the flesh, the blood and bone.
I started life as a 16-year old sailor. Britain had a Merchant Navy back in those days. It was a fabulous career; filled with excitement it was opportunity to sea (sic) so many different countries. By the time I was 22 years of age there were few parts of the world I hadn’t visited. It was a dangerous occupation but that was part of the attraction. Isn’t it always for imprudent young men?
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Soliloquy to a Beautiful Woman
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Soliloquy to a Beautiful Woman
Beautiful women of which there are many are a delight to the eye;
but totally bewitching women delight also the heart.
Some call such women enchanting. We poets call them inspirational
Because their striking presence, even among alluring women
Helps to turn our innermost thoughts into picture-words.
Only thus can we speak for the hearts of others.
Such women have a generosity of presence.
In a crowded room you see them first; like a diamond in dust.
They are the cameo set against the filigree.
You may take your eyes away from such a woman
But you feel as though she has left her photograph on your heart.
She will forever intrude into your thoughts
And she will linger longest in your memory.
Hers is not an image of any single quality
But a kaleidoscope of many.
She is prettier than pretty, livelier than life.
She is the embodiment of candlelight and roses.
She will turn heads and she will turn hearts
- But none so much as you have turned mine.
COOPERS CLOCK
As he glowed from the wine and the passage of time,
Cast a shadow to tarnish the spell;
He gazed at the glass that was emptying fast,
Then he gazed at the lovely Michelle.
She was lithesome and lovely, her youth to behold;
It would bring down a heart-dream in flight.
As she spiraled in dance then his eyes seemed to chance,
On the clock that was knocking on night.
Till her silhouette filled every nuance of thought,
As she led where the rhythm would go,
For he knew he could still the emptying glass,
But he wished that the clock would go slow.
Feline, a beauty; her eyes told the lie,
When he pledged that his heart wouldn't tell;
As the clock struck the time and he upturned his wine,
To remember the lovely Michelle.
The glass that was emptied could quickly be filled,
But the clock did its work and advanced,
As the ten hour was struck, he had run out of luck,
For the lady had finished her dance.
But her outline and beauty was fixed and was stilled,
As the clock on the wall rang its knell,
For he captured in thought as it rang out its chime -
The magic of lovely Michelle.
Soliloquy to a Beautiful Woman was inspired by a woman friend about 15 years ago. Of course its sentiment applies equally to the many beautiful women who have enriched my life; all equal in beauty and grace.Cooper’s Clock relates to a former Sailor’s Home on Liverpool’s iconic waterfront. The Mission’s bar was turned into a conventional bar and renamed Cooper’s Emporium.
One very quiet afternoon three lady bar staff was waiting on us two regulars. Quite spontaneously this charming and personable troupe began to dance to a melody. It was one of the most enchanting spectacles I have ever delighted in. Michael Walsh
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We Are Not Alone in Meadows, Dear
Friday, November 23, 2012
The Whisper Bird
I heard a small bird whisper from its perch upon a branch,
And I thought the chance remark was aimed at me;
There was not another soul, for such thoughtful hyperbole,
Well truth to say t’was not as I could see.
‘I know you mean it from your heart; I see it on your face,
But leave us simple woodland folk in peace:
For we live without disgrace; it is nature sets our pace;
And it’s nature who’ll decide when we shall cease.’
Could it mean the sins of man I thought had set me free?
As I wondered if the small bird had a point;
As its words flew as do thoughts, I understood quite true,
That woodland folk are not like you and me.
I left the woods disgraced by the folk of human race,
With their pesticides, their venom and their greed;
And I wandered home forlorn, cursed the day that I was born,
Surely better I was born of woodland seed.
We Are Not Alone in Meadows, Dear
We are not alone in the forest, dear,
It only seems to be;
We share it with the many folk,
The ones we cannot see.
Their forest ways are not our ways,
They read the sounds and breeze,
Their song the rain and babbling brook;
Their homes are where they please.
We are not alone in the meadows, dear,
So dream and whisper low,
And little folk now out of sight,
Shall watch us as we go.
The meadow ways are not our ways,
Their way of life not ours,
They play and sleep in river reeds,
And dream among the flowers.
We are not alone on river banks,
It cannot set us free;
For we are guests and they are hosts,
To what we’ll never be:
So when you leave your whimsy thoughts,
And merry go your way,
Remember all these woodland folk,
And the thoughts they cannot say.
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Pebbles at Your Windows
Thursday, November 22, 2012
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Enticement
Sprinkle perfume if you must, it’s what you like to do,
But I prefer aromas that remind me just of you.
So try the make Enticement; if you would true allure,
Unique to you I promise you; exclusive, it is pure.
Spray the perfume of your choice, its neither here nor there;
If you would share the freshness as you do when you are bare;
I tell you true, Enticement; no queen, no courtesan;
Will ever match your fragrance; will ever tempt your man.
Attraction, Dolce Blue, Lacoste, perhaps its Chanel 5,
If perfume poured for romance is destined soon to drive,
My senses to distraction; bewitch, a fatal lure;
Enticement is your perfume; it is the crucial draw.
It comes not in a bottle but it seeps from you within;
It is the scent of woman; it is the scent of skin;
Without a bottle's blemish; just you and you alone;
For you are true Enticement; you are your own Cologne.
22.11.12
Pebbles at your Windows
When I’m throwing pebbles at the windows of your heart,
And their tapping keeps you restless through the night;
Remember where I found them by the garden’s wishing well;
Then you will know that love is yours by right.
If glances that I send you tell that I’m in love with you,
Are heard as gentle voices by your heart:
Remember that their love-light is reflection of the stars,
A map for where we go, they’re heaven charts,
When my dreams are echoed by your own throughout the day;
And feelings of belonging are as wings;
Then I can tell you truly that thoughts that set you free,
Are pebbles at your windows that I bring.
08.11.12
ww.michaelwalsh.es
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I Wish That Time Was Now
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
I Wish That Time was Now
Close the lid, my Face Book friends, and give the laptop rest,
Let us be as once we were, when you and I were guests;
Your home or mine, oh how the wine would flow like repartee,
The night was young and songs were sung,
And we were bold and free.
The perfumes filled the air those nights; and lingered long my gaze;
As wine aromas painted art and set my dreams ablaze;
And you glowed too from flatter fun;
You caught my heart when on the run;
From Cupid and his well aimed dart,
Their silken threads won’t tear apart;
Those heart-kissed strands you wove that night;
I swear those stars were midnight bright.
My eyes across the wine glass rim could never more know peace;
Besotted, oh that I might die to be the lamb you fleece;
Then you shall wear the coat of love you weave with mystic spell,
Oh, you know the poetry of a heart you read so well.
My heart’s in flight, the wine, the song;
Your heart-shaped face my bliss,
That I might dream of moments when I gently stoop to kiss,
A blushing cheek half turned away, your sweet and lowered brow,
My heart was stopped but would the clock,
I wish that time was now.
The Pied Pipers of Death
Given just their childhood; sweet taste of youth, but nay -
No bitter-sweet, young love to greet the breaking of the day;
The sun set on their morning and their lives were lost mid-flow;
The young men and their mirth and dance that we will never know.
Lament the rafters of the inn will never hear their song,
Those soldier lads were sent away; lament; how sad, how wrong
Mothers gave a promise of a life fulfilled, but nay -
For now there is no grandchild; no bloom of age for they;
For grey haired men of yesterday, of lessons learnt not one,
They cheerful do the Reaper's work and scythe till work is done.
Now unborn children never know the sound of softly tread,
Of father's footsteps on the stair when safely tucked in bed.
Today their youth lies sleeping in their little homes of clay
For men whose lives were over took the young men all away;
Their youthful zeal and innocence was shrouded in a lie,
And that's the reason why, sir, only young men go to die.
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A Tall Ship and The Eastern Star
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
A TALL SHIP
I saw a tall ship sailing by,
I wept inside, I knew not why,
The spirit of the wind should breathe,
To bring my broken heart to grieve,
For distant shores, a warmer clime,
A place where bougainvillea climb.
I saw a tall ship sailing by,
Its masts were waving to the sky,
And as a compass needle's drawn,
I felt my soul was being borne,
Across the seas, across the waves,
Where sailor men cross sailor graves.
I saw a tall ship sailing by,
It flew so fast the foam would fly,
And as it stood upon the beam,
I wished myself aboard to dream,
Upon the tall ship sailing by,
To seek a place where I might die.
The Eastern Star
Tonight I gazed at heaven and I focused on a star,
For it glimmered in the eastern skies, you’re there but here you are;
I took your picture with me that you could see it too;
And as we wished upon that star I wished our dreams were true.
There’s a little diamond in the sky, it reflects the moonlight’s glow;
And it is always with you, dear, wherever you will go.
It sparkled as your eyes do; I would barter dreams for light;
And so I held your image up and wished it starry flight.
We gazed we two upon that star, there was just you and I;
I held your image in my arm and I shared it with the sky;
And now that twinkle eastern star,
That shimmers everywhere you are,
Has shared your image near and far, as you are here with me.
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I Gave my Son Away Today
Monday, November 19, 2012
I Gave Away my Son Today
I gave my son away today; I had no heavy heart,
Grab the moment, this is it, today’s a fresh new start.
It wasn’t his to say goodbye, in truth he never knew;
That once I’d given him away; I simply can’t undo.
No regrets, that’s life I said; he’s now another’s boy,
Someone else can take his hand; their everlasting joy.
I’ve done my bit and that is it, my goodness I am free,
I’ll never see that child again; for now I’m free, so free.
And yes I’ll sometimes ponder, and maybe I shall sigh;
Did he live a life like me, or did perhaps he die?
Should I care or care I not, each romance has its price;
Some I win and some I lose, but that was rather nice.
I wonder if at bedtime, when story time is past;
If troubled thoughts about his dad be put to sleep at last,
Oh, perish thoughts, I’ve had my fun and yet there’s more to come;
For dads can walk away and live, the children they’re for mum.
I gave my child away today, I simply walked away,
Another night of boyish fun, today’s another day;
But I can hardly ever know, nor can I understand,
I lost much more than honour when I had that one-night stand.
********
Farewell, My Legs
You have carried me far enough, my friends,
It is time for us to part –
I can’t remember back enough to when we made a start:
I know that I was tiny, and had just begun to walk;
You took me everywhere since then;
I had yet to learn to talk.
I will be on my way, one fine day;
We are near our journey’s end,
Then you’ll go your way, I’ll go mine,
My true and noble friends;
But when my soul has taken flight;
Perhaps one blissful starry night,
Then you will rest ‘neath coffin lid
Unknowing of the things you did.
You carried me onwards to my doom,
You’re all I could desire;
You walked with me from womb to tomb;
Where legs are not required;
So rest at peace, my two fine feet;
And turn your toes up proud,
To face the skies where I have gone,
When sleeping in your shroud.
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Swallows, Swifts, and Flights of Storks
Friday, November 16, 2012
Swallows, Swifts, and Flights of Storks
Who will dance in the pastures now, for the summer has early gone;
It took the storks, the swallows, swifts to the warmer lands of the sun;
Prophet-like the cool breeze speaks of the winter’s hiss and howl;
In meadows where we danced so gay soon leaden skies will growl.
Our songs were lifted by the breeze and danced across the weald;
And like the autumn leaves to come they skipped across the fields,
For warm winds blow before the snow, they scatter come what may;
The summer flowers have yet to sleep when time shall have its say.
Their summer dance and meadow song will never let me be,
And dare I wonder what shall come of those of spirits free;
Like swallows, swifts and flights of storks they leave with autumn clime;
Whilst I will be still chained to thee in thoughts of summertime.
********
We Are Not Alone in Meadows, Dear
We are not alone in the forest, dear,
It only seems to be;
We share it with the many folk,
The ones we cannot see.
Their forest ways are not our ways,
They read the sounds and breeze,
Their song the rain and babbling brook;
Their homes are where they please.
We are not alone in the meadows, dear,
So dream and whisper low,
And little folk now out of sight,
Shall watch us as we go.
The meadow ways are not our ways,
Their way of life not ours,
They play and sleep in river reeds,
And dream among the flowers.
We are not alone on river banks,
It cannot set us free;
For we are guests and they are hosts,
To what we’ll never be:
So when you leave your whimsy thoughts,
And merry go your way,
Remember all these woodland folk,
And the thoughts they cannot say.
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Diamonds Last Forever
Friday, November 16, 2012
The latest in a trilogy of poetry by Michael Walsh will soon be available through Amazon-Kindle. This will unlikely arouse interest along Spain’s Mediterranean coastline. Michael is perhaps better known as a ghost-writer.That he is highly regarded as a poet in the United States, Northern Europe and Russia is one of the ironies of his writing career. There is only one small magazine on the northern Costa Blanca that publishes his verse. Yet his poetry has won the hearts of two of the world’s great maritime cities; one being Riga and the other Liverpool.
Composing poetry since he was in his twenties, Michael has received compliments from all over the world. These include parliamentarians, counting one Deputy Prime Minister. A city’s Archbishop’s sentiments have been echoed by renowned playwrights, business heads; academics, international news media editors and figures in the mainly classical music world.
The total collection is thought to exceed 300 poems.
In 1998 he was arguably the fastest selling contemporary poet in the UK. His first anthology sold over 1,000 copies in several weeks; the second compilation sold its 2,000 print-run in a few months. His popularity on American radio was such that he declined further narrations as being too demanding.
In the Baltic States, and in particular Latvia, his poetry’s popularity, inspired by the Latvian countryside and peoples has attracted many tributes. Indeed, a disproportionate number of the more complimentary accolades come from Russia and the Baltic States. One is that of Latvia’s EU representative Inga Barisa.
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