Sunday, 20 May 2012

Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Thursday, 10 May 2012

Mouth and Music review

'Worcester has an unusually strong cohort of talented female poets and two were on form tonight.

Jenny Hope is a hugely talented poet. Not only is her poetry elegant, lyrical and precise, but she also revels in a dry wit, and a knowing glance. From Petrolhead her 2010 collection, she read from The Man who Married His Car, with the memorable opening : “ He was underneath her most weekends.” Jenny matches ear-catching phrases with a beguiling delivery, Woman included the line: “I seek out the roots of sleeping trees” – and we were hooked.

A reluctant Ruth Stacey was dragooned onto stage, fortunately she just happened to have the wonderful Go Round committed to memory, picking up the arboreal theme with :“The deciduous trees are gilded with decay.” Missing from the audience was fellow Worcester Poet Suz Winspear whose signature piece is Evil Trees. I have made a mental note to decline any offer of a walk in the woods with those three.'

Gary Longden

Gary's blog, which has great reviews, poetry and listings for the West Midlands.

Sunday, 6 May 2012


The church was decidedly less impressive- I was late
and stood by the gate, you were hunched and shorter too.
Slipping your arm through mine you stumbled so I had
to steady you and yet still insisting I take a pocket toffee;
extra chewy, just the same- rush of child sweet happiness.