A Knitted Landscape

A knitted landscape

Rows upon rows

Textures in twine

Stitched by wheat

Embroidered by barley

Endless colours

Boats casting off




Whimsy from the Isle of Sheppey

The Lime Street Naturalists

It's true what they say

About poems, nature, death and life. 

Pausing for thought whilst looking for 

Scientific heroes amongst rhythm of stones

The musical notes of poetic meter 

The names of my City churches muttered:

Some gone and half forgotten:

Saint Antholin, Benet, Dionis, All Hallows.

The people moved in death by 

A vigorous space needing City

The magpie approaches 

Drawn by my stillness
Looking for life under leaves

His glisten of blue-black-white

Like marble enlivened, shrieks.

The oblivious bee pauses 
Hovers and vanishes
A fleeting meeting of buzz and Ethel
Sweetness over Geranium robertianum

And earthly detritus

The squirrel scratches up the tree

Flickingly shy, peering at me 

Whilst other sounds bring the stones alive

The irony is I'm looking for naturalists 

And they're here, still, looking at nature

Written for the 16th Century Lime Street Naturalists who were moved to the City of London Cemetery in the 1900s.

The Art of Writing; Or the Science of Writing

'Stop it with all the damn metaphors'
Kirk to 'Bones' McCoy in irritated exasperation 
Star Trek: Into Darkness (2013)

Science writing has held a peculiar interest for me this week, given my Trekkie credentials. I've seen the new Star Trek movie twice and have contemplated buying the original 'Wrath of Khan' to compare the change in writing and production styles. However for the purposes of these notes, the quote above is the perfect introduction to the Birkbeck Science and Writing Symposium, 21 May 2013.

A universe of cheese and worms

A rare group of people – two poets, a playwright, an astronomer, a science/history/cultural academic, two actors and a cartoonist - were brought together not just to discuss the way they communicate their ideas but to actually demonstrate and showcase their skills. I’m not going to simply narrate what each person said but try to highlight themes. What I must say is, so often at academic symposia the emphasis is on the presentation of paper after paper with little or no presenter animation. No matter how interesting the topic, my eyes glaze over eventually but not here, not this time, we were off; starting with the Big Bang. Before I come on to the themes, I want to dwell a little on the poets and their poetry.

Cages

Take this pain of loss away
How can such a solid heart thudding
Maintain such a pounding, seemingly
Beating faster and intense to make
Blood whir and head ache, fit to burst

Take this empty hollowness away
And fill the space of phantom heart
With quiet. Not disquiet of red dark
But the tranquility of blue and green
Blurring eyes dart, panic, too much

Take this ceaseless sickness away
And ease the sealike turmoil to lend
Calmness. Allow distressed breath
To fade, send conscious signals
Making sleep come and pain recede

Nothing will take this loss away
To lose it now would seem loss of me
But familiar discomfort of missing limb
Still tortures as fresh now as then
Still caged within, empty, pounding pain.

Poetry of Line

Poetry of line.
A house stands on a morning hillside,
Quivering through the dewy haze.
An Italian scent rising with the sun,
An intense suggestion of shapes.
He looks at the landscape
As if at his palms, seeming
Random collection of sharp marks
To craft soft foliage or
A living hand

Line of poetry.
A collection of domestic vessels
Cluster smartly,looking out oddly.
An Italian scent rising from the cloth
An intense order of natura morta.
He looks at the homely
With a half closed stare, seeming
Creating rounds, fluted and handled
To create solid with light
A living gaze

Giorgio Morandi at the Estorick.

On the Paris Version of Leonardo’s Virgin of the Rocks

Science of painting reflects the mind’s divinity

Monoliths marshal and stand sentient
Silhouetted against the timeless sky
Nature’s harsh light unworthy to pierce
Mary’s loving liquid tranquility:
Divinity needs no external light.

Only a glow from within illuminating,
Awakening the soul, the mind, the spirit.
A perfect circle of composed gesture
Human intellect a divine conduit
Science/art interpreting art/science

From Dec 2011 when the two Da Vinci 'Virgin of the Rocks' were in the National Gallery

Non Regretful Regrets

So much talk carefully saying so little.
Familiar lines in well known voice

Brings bitter tears to the heart and

Conscious knowledge of what I did. 

Seated comfortably to unfamiliar music.

Familiar response to homelike room;

Fripperies, elegance, nonsense and

Sharpness which is what I loved. 

A gentle hand found in the dark;

Ghosts of scent and senses respond.

Our untogetherness is senseless and

Yet this sweet lovelessness is deserved

All of night spent in careful non moving

Wakeful sleep; no rapid heart beat to

Betray uncomfortable feelings and

So to the morning and I must go.

From a million years ago. Dec 2011

Eyes of a Stranger

Strangers eyes meet
A smile exchanged
Do they see my inner glow
Rivers of pure lust
Bubbling up
Recognition of what is to come?

A fascination of feelings
Unstoppable in intensity
A curve of shapely lip
A glimmer of sparkle
Eyes drop downwards; time to run.
For him a semi regretful departure?

From Nov 2011. An exchange of tweets reminded me to put it on here.

The Door

A door thought closed in my mind
Opens when news of death hits home.
A door holding back memories of life
Before now, before knowledge, before.

A door of new friendship thrown open
In response to a confused lonely girl;
A door never shut to us at that strange
Never time between child and now.

A door into a world of laughter and
Light, easy times of warm delight.
A door to happiness, newness, with
Parties to raise roofs, glasses and spirits

A door mirrors her time, her beauty,
Living on because people like her just do.
A door to that 'other' links us with them
In rushing images untethered unbidden.

The door that takes the dead away
Will always remain open to remembrance.
The door that closes on those most loved
Will in truth be the one refusing to shut.

This door of losspain opens once more to
Remind me of people love, loved, gone
The door they emerge from to enwrap me
When I peer round, calling their name.



For my good friend's mother who passed away suddenly. Feb 2013.

Olafur Eliasson - Model for a timeless garden

Flashing flashing flashing
Strobing flashing strobing flashing
Black white black white

An array of jewels are there not there
Spread out like Hatton Garden windows
Diamond drops the same not the same

Glittering moving stillness arrested
Piece after piece burbles frozen monochrome
Both suspended in air and tied to earth

If light had a sound this is it
Splashing pulsating radiating waves
Fresh water like liquid ice melts

Like rainbows in moonlight
A watery game an insight into magic
Model for a timeless garden

Flashing flashing flashing
Strobing flashing strobing flashing
Black white black white

Model for a timeless garden, 2011 

Management Meeting Meop

How many times can you say the same thing?

Different ways

Round and round the table

Process mandatory pick up with the event of significant changes

All talking and no understanding

Communicating changes

Repeated views but merely louder

Definite definable outcomes easily auditable 

Blanket stares into the biscuits

Bottomless coffee 

Soporific gaze at clock going backwards

Publishing guidance on how to communicate

Red flagged emails read in a millisecond

Compliant lawyers

Responses required with no conscious awareness

Policy documents regarding multiple policies published

We are agreed

We are as one

We are a Single Remarkable Administration

New Year 2013

Shores of emotion 
Reflected in light 
Explosions to take us 
Into the future 

Swelling of crowds 
Noise increases 
Excitement of unknown 
Out of this world 

Climactic bursts 
Tensions are high 
Pulsating thrashing 
London's ablaze

Solid Sodium

Solid bodies under soft sodium hue
Moving swiftly in shades of orange.
As fast as they can, seeming oblivious

An unnoticed shadow scurries behind
Sometimes ahead, sometimes three;
People melt past in unconscious dance

Of black, pale and paler as light's cast
Circling, stretching, gracefully arching
A spectrally synchronised pas de trois

Gulls

Why do black headed gulls leave 

Me mournful? Circling clad in winter 

Plumage, rapaciously feeding

Against a heavy sky, braving the cold. 

Colours fading like their seasonal feathers

Leaving the scene melancholy flat 

An empty canal side distantly wind rippled; 

Rib-like foliage submits to inevitable fate
Whilst the still green stalks mutter, 'gloves,
Give us gloves!' How cold do the pink legs
Of the determined joggers look? Their hats
Worn, like the white fluff of the gulls.

A cloud goes bang; mistaken early firework
Too early, too grey, too chemical red.
But the group of gulls used to the quiet
Dissipate to perching safety to survey
Drear water; suddenly the air is empty
Not even a gull to enervate the gloom.

Rain

Holding hands and stepping forward

A trust in each other a trust in the sky

That the rain will stop and the love that will not

Catching a breath. Stop. Look up.

Silence as rain falls all around

Silence as moments slow motion fall

A promise in rainbow, no unweaving here

Just a presentiment felt and deeply seared

Refracting in black, illuminated in dark

Let endless drops move to our rhythms. 

Jury Service

I meant to post these poems ages ago. They were inspired by jury service and progress from the waiting around, to the case and finally the feelings I was left with at the end.


Waiting

A boredom of faces wide in types
Some simply vacantly staring
Many in REM
Others engrossed in curly eared novels
Or Nintendo games

The silent hum of patient people
Punctuated by terse tannoy
A call to attention
Read instructions guaranteed somnambulance

Suddenly over
A shift in gear and queues form quickly
Confusion. A puzzled face
People promptly depatched
I'm still sat here waiting listening to snores
Wish I was at work!



The Case

'I didn't mean to stab him til I stabbed him'
Pronounced the irresponsible immature
Alcoholic
Living separately together in family unit

'I did it in self defense'
Continued the gentle non aggressive
Best friend
Who shows no sign of injury

How much force to penetrate an ear?
How much force to puncture a lung?

'I remember nothing'
Announces the confused life saver life taking
Brother
With bloodstains engraved on his soul

'I don't know where I put the knife'
Evades the scared ill advised unfortunate
Young man
With the knife in his pocket

'I went downstairs to see if everything was ok'
Reflected the worried, shocked, vacant
Murderer
Who knelt to breathe life into bloodied lungs

How much blood in chest cavity to kill?
How much air to escape until life extinct?


The Sentence

No words to describe
The grief
Caused by that responsibility

'Take him down'

Reverberates
Resonates
No escape
Locked together for life

Life, Death, Sex: Ovid in music

Now I am ready to to tell how bodies are changed into different bodies

So starts Ted Hughes's translation of the Metamorphoses. This great work has not been out of fashion since it was written over 2000 years ago. A perpetual reminder that we are fascinated by the stories of human passion and obsession, as well as exploring the whimsical caprice of gods and goddesses. At the heart of the poem is 250 stories of change, told with a lightness of touch and linguistic depth comparable with the parables of the bible. Stories that take difficult ideas and transform them so that anyone can understand them; human complexities distilled into perfect concentrated capsules awaiting release.

György Ligeti - Poème Symphonique For 100 Metronomes

Sounds of beating cicadas singing the day
Hammering out song brashly bright

Lying awake listening to warm rain
These machines tapping insistent patterns

Mechanical toy chattering madly until
Slowing. Lazily. Grinding. Halting

Clattering hooves of horse drawn hearse
Pulling their load into quiet distance

Final rewinding of internal clock
Gentle, with care, of old mechanism

Counting our life's minutes seconds
Dying away. Final clicks. Slowly 

Double desynchronising momentum 
Profound phasing in and out  

Single heart beating life 

Alone

Ceases

Tiny blue

Gleeful spirits sailing
Soaring and bubbling their
True delight in the air

Gravity free flying
Butterflying blue
Tiny rarity in the air

Following haphazard joy
Curiously, knowingly

Captivated by colour

Powdery hues dancing

Sparkling eyes watch
Their blurring turquoise air

For the splendid @classicpassion

Millennium Bridge Soundscape

Serenity bustles by businesslike
Water music accompanies the crowd
Discordant chords sooth the sky
Which turns from colour to silver
To match the glistening notes
All around us

Waves of people; waves of river
In unconscious unnoticing synchronicity
Shafts of light rising and sinking
In time, out of time, eternal histories
Whispered and felt and insistent
All around us