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Best Poems Written by Graham Bentley

Below are the all-time best Graham Bentley poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Ripples

I have a tap that drips

Drop after languid drop, they slowly form, pear-shaped pearls

Reflecting light, rainbows, a fluid diamond

Then gravity, they fall, only to explode to a myriad of ripples

Liquid slivers that pour, jump and settle

Breaking the surface, spreading, traveling

They reach an edge, come softly back

Momentum lost

Until they vanish beneath the returned calm surface



1997

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A Eulogy To Animals In War

We are the soldiers who have no voice
In war or peace, we have no choice
Yet we toil and fight alongside men
We do all we do, the best way we can

We bleed and we die, we bark neigh and cry
Our kin beside men in the mud and sand lie
Our number are millions in all of the wars
We march not on two feet but on four hooves and paws

We give freely our loyalty hard work and trust
We don’t understand causes and if they are just
But in harness or saddle, collar and lead
We will follow regardless as this is our creed

Forget us not, all the lives that we gave
Our sacrifice given from birth to the grave
We are the soldiers who serve in your wars
We march not on two feet but four hooves and paws



Written for the 100th Memorial Year
Ypres November 11 2018

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Lines

I know each one, every line

My eyes trace them every day

From dawn’s light to dusk’s dark

One fascinates me, long, curved

It’s history hidden, for me to imagine, build a story

Bisected by others, short, shallow or deeper

Like stems of soft grass maybe

It lays there, reflects light, casts gentle shadow

But is one of many, unnumbered, multitudes

Sometimes still often ambulant

They frame smiles, laughs, sorrow, concentration

Then in rest they return each to its practiced place

For me to gaze upon them once more

Engaging my wonder, my thoughts

Building a beauty I will never forget

Details | Graham Bentley Poem

Chat De Schrodinger Et Metamorphism

Inside me is a box, my personal paradox

Inside this box there is me, my poison of loss and the decay of time

When time ran out, my loss became too great, I died

Yet I do not want to look, frightened even terrified

But this is merely theory? Surely not a truth

When really my box contains only uncertainty, not knowing what will be

Would I live or die, could I do both? I already did the later

So perhaps it is true, I am both states 

Or has my box a new name? Pandora may fit

And so I lock it tightly, I will never open it, to bring more hurt to my world

I have pain enough


2015


Schrödinger's cat (a brief explanation)
Imagine that a cat, poison, a geiger counter, radioactive material, and a hammer were inside of a sealed container. The amount of radioactive material was minuscule enough that it only had a 50/50 shot of being detected over the course of an hour. If the geiger counter detected radiation, the hammer would smash the poison, killing the cat. Until someone opened the container and observed the system, it was impossible to predict the cat’s outcome. Thus, until the system collapsed into one configuration, the cat would exist in some superposition zombie state of being both alive and dead. 
Many people incorrectly assume Schrödinger supported the premise behind the thought experiment, he really didn’t. His entire point was that it was impossible.

A small joke

Schrödinger's cat walks into a bar
And doesn’t

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High Pressure Pump

A very crucial thing this is, this part of the greater whole

It hides, quiet, in the wings, so vital this thing

Never seen yet works so hard, does its job, day after day

Circulating, delivering, controlling the demands

Sometimes we need slow, or fast, it is taken for granted

And then it ages, develops flaws, performance gone

So, we slow up, until it fails and all comes to stop

Marooned, mired, our voyage ends

If lucky we can replace it, come back to life

Our journeys dictated by a high pressure pump

Aug 2021

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Loud As a Whisper

Shouting, noise beyond compare, unending, incoming cacophony 

People everywhere, running, weaving, dodging, evading

But can’t avoid the crescendo, the orchestra percussion gone mad

Ever climbing until it is a deafening roar, eardrums in pain

Illusion is days, reality is minutes, did time cease, somebody speaks to me

I cannot hear them but guess the words, I must learn to lipread

Then, as quickly as the start, it is gone, a surreal silence, a ringing in my head

Like walking from a loud night club into the still dawn times a hundred

And as normal returns, I turn to talk to one, shakes his head, hands over his ears

Deafened by the first close shell fall, we don’t hear much

He is shouting, all I hear is a whisper


July 2005

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My Eva

My Eva

Under a blue sky
Cloudless, fresh, warmed with gentle breezes,
Light air brushes her hair,
Wisps waving softly by her face,
Eyes alight with a smile
This is my Eva
Alive, full of life, bringing warmth
To my heart



Oct 2021

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Smoke

Soft, grey, floating tugged by breeze, a light cloud

Almost alive, a plume from source, spreading out

Rounded edges like a cotton ball, smudged against the sky

It twists and turns, folds and curls

I imagine the birth of it, small, hot, as it joins the air

Each tiny particle playing, jouncing with another

Like a swarm of swallows, ever changing form, direction, shape

Seeming to have no firm gain in mind

Enjoying the freedom, billowing forth, so happy to be loose

I ignore the cause, I don’t want to consider

Yet it is there, this ground for the smoke, reason, rhyme

And so I watch this ever evolving cloud

As it paints the sky in front of my eyes

Unable to look elsewhere, drawn to it, glued

Then I find another focus, as life has needs also

I turn to them and so this become a memory

Amongst all the others, this is filed, stored, just another moment

Adding to my own personal plume of smoke

Details | Graham Bentley Poem

The Decline of a Man

I met this man, a father, grandfather, a man of substance

A wealth of life, success from nothing, earned respect

No easy path yet won, built, from ruins to riches you might say

Not alone, side by side with a mother, grandmother, a woman of substance

This couple strived, created and achieved much, such a history

She is in mind so strong, directing, dominant in her life, a force

It can be seen even now in her frailty, she has much to be proud of, much to celebrate

So her loss comes not easy, I speak of her man, this clever man

As he begins to lose parts of his life, recent things, words, thoughts, discourse

Unremembered, oft repeated to those around him, tenfold sometimes

Yet to engage his history gone past, unlocks his memories and his eyes light

Almost a child emerges as he recalls, some fantasy mixed in, all with animation

Happiness surfaces, each tale delivered comes to life regardless of its reality

The joy is to listen, to respond, to support, to respect, it is an education

But mostly it is an honour to be part of this dance, even if short lived
And for the rest? Well slowly he loses piece by piece his recent life

Yet he remains happy, somehow younger in mind, and those around him

Give him safety, care, love, kindness, the irritations accepted, understood, tolerated

To see him find pleasure in simple things provides balance for the upset

I am glad I met this man

Details | Graham Bentley Poem

Breath Taken

Breath taken I gaze, no words for this

Those eyes of auburn, like rare stones

I could be lost in such eyes, forever

As I sink inwards, falling inwards

Enveloped by a grace, a feeling

Of completeness, oneness

I am left surrounded by love

Cushioned in passion

Free at last



2021