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Margaret Clerici Poem
The Roundel
From the top of the staircase
the sun shines through
an oval stained-glass window,
spreading slow, blush-rose
over footworn, blue-veined Carrara.
Set high in the wall a white star
against a blood-red sea
and through the red panes,
and rippling as though dipped
in blood itself,
a glimpse of church tower
shimmering with the sound
of drowning bells:
Malta in a roundel.
Margaret Clerici
from "Glass: Glimpses of Malta"
Copyright © Margaret Clerici | Year Posted 2009
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Margaret Clerici Poem
Washday at the Zoo
Peg out the elephants!
Hang up the hippos!
Let the bison and wildebeest
blow and billow in the wind!
Fluff out your flamingoes
with fabric softeners.
Stick the swans on a pre-wash
and get 'em whiter than white.
Rhinos can go in on 95
and they'll still come out
a disappointing grunge of khaki-grey.
(So much for the blandishments
of the adman).
Do tigers and zebras
on a low cycle
or the stripes will run.
Take care with gerbels,
they're liable to shrink.
Sort out yer primates
and read the labels --
howlers are different from chimps.
Oh! And watch out for snakes!
They tend to slither about
at the bottom of the laundry basket.
One emerald green one
amongst a flock of pastel doves
will cause untold havoc!
Margaret Clerici
Copyright © Margaret Clerici | Year Posted 2009
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Margaret Clerici Poem
Going Dutch
When they come for me,
tell them I'm not here.
Say I've moved.
Say, if you like,
that I live at the Tate
(Modern or Britain is immaterial).
When pressed, be vague.
Say you might have overheard me mutter
something about the National.
Scandalize them - say I'm sunbathing nude
with a bunch of Rubenesque belles,
or I'm babysitting for Mary
while she whips off down to the market
to pick up a new blue robe.
Say I've bunked off to Venice
for the carnival with Tiepolo.
Bore them to death with a lecture
on pointillism or chiaroscuro.
But whatever you do,
don't mention sunflowers,
or little yellow chairs
or they'll catch me
skiing down the sides of wavy cypresses,
or whooping it up
with a crowd of golden stars!
Margaret Clerici
with a crowd of golden stars!
Copyright © Margaret Clerici | Year Posted 2009
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Margaret Clerici Poem
The Lunette
Above the transom of the door
leading to the courtyard
a half-moon of yellow glass,
pitted and bubbled,
shows you fragments of garden.
From mullion to mullion
now bourgainvillea,
now ivy, now jasmine
sway and snake
against old limestone:
cool green emblazoned
with sudden mustard,
viridescence dipped in citrine.
A hot, yellow half-moon
trapped in the inner gloom
of Mdina.
Margaret Clerici
from "Glass:Glimpses of Malta"
Copyright © Margaret Clerici | Year Posted 2009
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Margaret Clerici Poem
Saturday Clown
My name is Saturday Clown.
I live at the end of the week.
By the time Monday to Friday
have finished making a hash of it,
there's nothing left for me to do
but put on a diamond patterned suit,
a frilly collar, a pom-pom hat
and go cartwheeling through the day.
Invariably I slip on a banana skin
and go crashing into Sunday.
He is NEVER amused!
Margaret Clerici
Copyright © Margaret Clerici | Year Posted 2009
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Margaret Clerici Poem
Plate Glass
The plate glass frontage of the hotel
offers a sea of indigo and ink
to the full moon
to float her wavering disc
of opal and milk.
Now tower is dark,
now spire is silver-sword-sharp,
now pearl is dome:
Valletta in black and white,
Malta in monochrome.
Margaret Clerici
from "Glass:Glimpses of Malta"
Copyright © Margaret Clerici | Year Posted 2009
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