Best Northwards Poems
The last sigh of the Moor, King Boabdil,
As he flees the triumphant Ferdinand,
Echoes round slopes of a mist-shrouded hill.
He looks back for the last time at the land
That he once ruled. `Weep as a woman will,’
His mother jeers behind her jewelled hand,
`For what you would not defend as a man!’
He stares northwards as long as he can,
Marvelling at the distant snow-capped hills
Gently cradling the Alhambra’s walls,
Its towers, placid ponds, and sparkling rills,
Treasuring them. Later, when he recalls
This scene, he deems its loss the worst of ills
That ever befell him, and, saddened, falls
To yearning for water from those mountains
And the Generalife’s dancing fountains.
A tale as romantic as any told -
This Moorish palace of earthly pleasure,
Its red stone, now mellowed to pink and gold,
Is a wonder of the world to treasure.
Like Boabdil, I want to hoard and hold
Its magical light, and, for good measure,
The sound of Granada’s gurgling streams
In my mind to recall in pleasant dreams.
"Westward, further out ..."
Dusk washes over you
warm like honey
saltry and sweet
immersed in amber tones of
apricot alerts and rose
swirling unfurling peonies
the blooming silent dancing clouds
rush over white horses
crashing against
bracken green emeralds
the depths open
and unfathomable,
who can read the eyes of
an unexplored ocean,
the shallows
slide under your feet,
you turn your face up to the Sun and smile,
you feel like you’re bathing in Manuka,
it’s moorish and incurably medicinal,
the salt spray chasing northwards
up along bare legs mid thigh
on another shore
the uncertain sure calls,
the stories are a legion
in multitude of treasures
like beached shells whispering
to ears that are not listening;
you think of wading out further
where the turning back is harder,
the song calls you evocatively
further westward like a drug
you’d gladly holster star shot
drinking life in like a last shot
like a burning addiction,
your world is sliding strong
tide-drifted under your feet,
flesh and bone trying to bed
the undertow and its
neverending mystery
dragging you further out
westward
incomplete
complete
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
A speck drifts in the wind blown hither and tither,
Briefly settling then takes to the air once more.
Now a charged particle thanks to the storm,
It flitters around like a beautiful butterfly.
Travelling the world at the whim of winds
visiting Australia, Asia and Africa on its way.
The frozen plains of Europe weigh it down
As it mixes with ice that freezes it hard.
Drifting aimlessly northwards, it, then
picks up the gulf stream still heading north.
Finally over the Shetland Isles it comes
to rest, Oh the tales that it could tell us.
Now it adds richness to the thin soil
here spring plants will take a grip
and burst into wondrous blooms
all due to a small mote of dust.
Hand in hand with the breaking pink light of dawn,
A light east breeze dances on tiptoes upon the water’s surface.
I stand on the wooden deck, looking out onto the quiet bay,
Scattered boats gently sway in their moorings.
Making me feel like I am flying amongst them - a bird on a wing,
Flocks of terns swoop and rise in graceful circles close beside me.
Dexterously stepping over the green covered rocks on the shore, three white egrets are here too;
They keenly pick out their breakfast in the lapping tide.
With a swoop and fall, a cormorant dives deftly into the water and disappears,
Moments later the bird emerges several metres away as if out of nowhere.
In a display of alternating flashes of grey and brilliant white,
Plovers so small and so swift turn and glide in controlled unison.
I glance northwards towards a distant gentle hum,
There great ships are silhouetted in the waking harbour.
I stand and breathe in true appreciation;
Oh, the magnificent beauty of this new day.
Form:
Bleached bones of a fallen beast,
Casting a shadow that points
To the east,
A cowboy rides out
With a noose round his neck,
Travelling north on a
Perilous trek.
The noose is a reminder
That his life is not his,
Not that he needs it
To tell him the truth,
He's atoning for sins
Committed by him
And the noose is just there
For some proof.
His horse pointing northwards,
His spurs jab its flanks,
It jumps on a journey
It knows not to where,
He has been advised
If he gets where he must
That he must handle all things
With great care.
Long weeks follow days,
He ne'er stops for food,
He feels neither hunger,
Nor thirst or fatigue,
His Horse is the same,
Feeling neither hunger or pain,
Though they travel on league
After league.
He stops on the brow
Of a mountainous peak,
To gain the bearings
He felt he had lost.
His eyes sweep the plains
He travels in vain,
Without ever revealing
The cost.
His life had been shortened
For the most part by death,
He had suffered
For what he had done,
His actions alone
Had been the sole cause
Of the loss of his wife
And his son.
And so for his torment
He had been given a task,
That he knew he must
Always repeat,
There was no respite
And no task to be done
And his journey would be
Never complete.
And so he rides on
O'er the endless red plain,
Destined as ever to
Be all alone,
And maybe one day
His skull will be seen
By another as abandoned
Bleached bone....
the red kite whistles
to it's mate soaring above..
from their nest of love
chatter in the sky
northwards,in neat formation
migrating geese fly
a magpie arrives..
the starling's melody dies-
soundlessly death cries
just one flap of wings-
the sparrow-hawk makes its kill
pouncing down at will
I hate to chortle at the sound of broken laughter,
Just like I refrain from weeping when dancing smoke fills my eyes . . .
But when dogs mourn alone,
I chafe my hands with the cold of tears of solitude.
Monuments and cairns I crave among the icy
Terrains, where dogs’ paws leave eternal marks —
The print-marks of an important visit,
Evidence of life on desiccated earth.
On board The Fram they sailed majestically
In the beginning,
Before joining a steam of blizzards they escaped from,
Returning home, northwards, gelid and depressing,
For a funeral of dogs,
The ceremony of age,
Attended largely by silent yaps of strayed thunder.
I. [Fall]
Autumnal clouds fleet
Gray in an ominous sky:
Harbinger of cold.
2. [Winter]
In silent snowy
Woods, a faint crackling whisper
As the crystals fall.
3. [Spring]
The sun rides northwards
And the countryside will stir
From its wintry sleep.
Smart savior see, listen my genuine words
Happy heart come, come check beyond
Every sweet word me, every pillar towards
Establishing a good home, too firm a bond
Kind from now we, East West or Northwards
Someone somewhere saw, a black ark right
Moving down your forehead, the best nature pencil
Over the seasons and so, who will reiterwrite?
Prior or it tore, in memories with night
Lovely black ropes underlying, around above your ears
Under towards and more, on your shoulders rest slight
Soon having said that, now I come down
Mimicking your cat walk, aping a shake in smile
On the floor on our mat, as you twine betraying frown
Sitting to smile you talk, in my ear your words pile
Every aromatic breath alert, what you serve my crown
On my knees I worst, for your say I wait
I suppose to do not, even before you queen
Smart Scarlet a must, please knock my bait
Head in this your pot, heat my boil on keen
nothing in its hand
nothing in its heart
nothing in its head
northwards it gapes
what if the arctic melts
and corona car is offered
to transport your things
My brother, where will hide
with your elastic hands?
...The sharp-shooters opened on him first,
Cutting down fifteen of his dragoons,
Tartleton ordered a grand charged,
with his infantry now on the move.
The sharp-shooters fired and fell back,
were absorbed in the second line,
who had been ordered to fire twice,
then get out of there double-time.
They targeted British officers,
took them down with accurate shots,
then retreated back as ordered
giving much more then they got.
But Tarleton saw them running,
and assumed that his men had won,
then ran into the Continentals,
three-hundred-fifty men with guns.
The militia moved behind them,
tnd out came a thunderous roar,
Swathes of British fell to the ground,
their ‘victory’ now nevermore.
Then that same militia regrouped,
swung right to hit Britain's left flank,
then came colonial cavalry
from the right into Tarleton’s ranks.
Fire poured from three directions,
the British now in an enfilade,
caught in a double envelopment,
like the Romans trapped at Cumae.
To add to it the British
hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours,
the will to fight went out of them,
to keep on wasnot in their power.
Without getting word from above
most threw up their arms and they quit,
six-hundred thirty were captured,
one hundred ten dead before this.
Tarlteton himself road back to
his remaining cavalry troops,
tried to get them to charge again,
but this order they just refused.
Knowing what would be done to him
if by the rebels he was captured,
Tarleton fled with three hundred men,
all of his force that had endured.
Cornwallis’s army remained,
but had lost the cream of the crop,
he marched from South Carolina,
his efforts to pacify dropped.
Instead he headed up northwards,
to chase General Nathaniel Greene down,
leading to a chain of events
that would bring about doom at Yorktown.
For the hard-pressed Americans
it was a huge moral victory,
bringing back hope of success
thanks to Daniel Morgan’s masterpiece.
The fire
burn the furn
the forest is on fire
light eyes
sparkle in cloven escarpment
drizzle the muzzle around the bear
h’s so aware
tear the trees
in the east
feast
the birds screeching clawing
gnawing at the spectacular horizon
torching the ghostly night
awakened with fright
my sight becomes shady
awareness from an old lady
the herds of deer sear northwards
where they are safe from the furnace
the flowers lay shrilled from smoke
and churning logs burning the escarpment
scattered with matter
litter so bitter
plunder the mosses
roses wonder if they will survive
depth of cracks getting bigger
the ground rumbles from the weather
birds of a feather little creatures try and escape the hurt
rabbits dig holes to try and escape the carnage
capped and so slender the adder tries to go wherever
butter Mellon caps the traps of spiders
there wings entangled
starlight stargazer left by the stranger
danger the word from a stranger
gets stranger and stranger and louder
the bolts of crackers let out big laughter
the days go by with giving flowers to the dead years after
written tonuhalan1/05/06 mon
The rains are here, relentless as ever
The grass blade is excited like never
The season of hibernation is over
Swirling in water, as a duck dumpling
in sauce
The blade of grass has come home
A rich gourmet of moisture and nutrients
Thrusts the roots, taking its journey southward
And the shoots going northwards
The grass blade has taken its place.
As the rains continue in its season
The lush of greenery fills the reasons
Natural beauty in lyrical passion
Paradise in a paradox, Laying among
the lilies.
Let me count the days since spring
And with jays and canaries sing
The moment of birth. I was born
At the bud of the young ram's horn
Fiery as a Mars in his van of war
O I love to play the cliffs and scar
And dream beneath the moon. I
Was born to laugh in tigers' eye.
Yet on the day the calender shall count
Twenty eight sunrise and no more
The peaks the eagle use to mount
Will call my name, no more, no more
For each birthday now I hesitate
Contrite to die, and will not celebrate
The hurrying of my soul to the door
I cried too when I entered here before.
Therefore the song you hear when now
I sing, is an old lament from lovers' loss
The sun slants her shadows cross the bough
I face northwards in the growing moss
All birds fly north again, you know
And yet before me the white snow
The dimming light and horizon far
Before ever I cross the sultry bar.
I was born chasing moonbeams 'cross the sky
O I was born a man and so to die.
As the geese flew north
Their honking cries
Could be heard
In clear Autumn skies
Heading home
For a winter
At Heartstone
Filled with stories
From the south
A gentle wind
Pushed them ever northwards
Grey wings, beating with ease
On a starkly beautiful day
Forty two geese
Flew through winter sun
To Heartstone
Where they will stay