Editor: Susan Jane Sims
Poems by Andrew Greenslade, Julie Sampson, Lizzie Ballagher, Jo Waterworth, Pallab Pathak, Annest Gwilym, Sukarma Rani Thareja, Michael Docker and Gary Beck
Photographs by Chris Sims
• Archive of all Poetry Space showcases
Editor’s notes
It was a pleasure for this edition to take a turn once again at editing The Showcase. I looked for images and lines that took me away from the every day and poems and poets who attempted to do something different. In Tension Lines, “a rose levitates off the page” and “the sea has stopped waving”. I love this poem, the world is turned on its head and there are echoes of Stevie Smith’s “not waving but drowning“. In Julia’s Seascape, the poet explores her loss of self with a light touch. The glorious spirit of childhood is captured in Red Kite. “To grab the wild-mare wind” – what a line! After the down to earth title of Poem (to Accompany a Gift of Jam) lines like “the unsettling lurch of my womb/when the thought of you naked caught me by surprise” are a total delight. I love the sustained metaphor in the poem. The short poem My home is in the World is lovely, capturing the fact that the world itself is accepting and peaceful, it is just humankind that disturbs the peace. I love the sumptuous world created in The Greenhouse:” sun-born globes red as rubies/hang like baubles.” Le Chatelier’s Principle (LCP) is perhaps an unusual choice for The Showcase, however I appreciated the fact that this poet is doing something quite fascinating with poetry here, making it into a teaching aid for students. The collage illustration is the poet’s too. Hospital Dying is a sombre look at death in hospital. I love the strong finish. The nature of news coverage and how it sets out to shock rather than inform is explored neatly in Accelerated Horror and finally to end with, a poem that delights both in the magic of words and celebrates a coming of age. (Sixty Five)
Thank you to everyone who has submitted work to Poetry Space.
Tension Lines
The line here
plays transcendental beauty, timeless
embedded trails of wondrous virility,
a rose levitates off the page, odour felts,
extricates, intoxicates; cannot forget
the sun and the rainbow and the seas waving tranquility.
The line here
lurid combat-us, prime-evil effect-us,
embedded entrails, grotesque viruses,
words jumble-up, a fist jumps off the page,
fractious, perilous; cannot forgive
the sun and the rainbow and the sea has stopped waving.
Andrew Greenslade
Julia’s Seascape
I cannot trawl
your intimate seas
your stars
and the blue healing
of letters
flax
flowers
rising like dolphins
from sea-grass
and waves
haul memories
the fall
the
fall
of the self
Julie Sampson (UK
Red Kite
On Butser Hill the little boys lifts
His laughter to the sky.
Small hands would capture air,
Would catch at clouds & dare
To grab the wild-mare wind by her mane:
Frail balsa sticks spiral aloft
With a blazing tail & comet trail
Of ribbons red as strawberries.
Red as the little boy’s scarlet coat,
His red kite climbs the air’s free stairs
And the boy’s soft heart soars up.
“Red kite! Red kite! Oh, look! Red kite!”
And when I was only a little child I took
Great-Uncle Jack Bookless’ bird-watching book
Into my greedy, happy hands, ransacked it
With avid curiosity to read of wonders.
But no page, no picture was there
Of an air-agile, rare & burnished red bird
With graceful wings & a speckled back;
Nor of the wide forked tail in white & black.
Now, though, as this red kite scours the skies;
Now as this red kite bends her bright eyes
On me, I laugh & my heart soars up.
“Red kite! Red kite! Oh, look! Red kite!”
Lizzie Ballagher (UK)
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Poem (to Accompany a Gift of Jam)
I came home, and chanced across
a wartime booklet – fruit and vegetable preserving –
sitting across the top of a row of books
on one of my bookshelves.
The fact that I lay on my bed
and assiduously read
all the way to page twenty
(Tomatoes are in a class by themselves)
may tell you a little of how much
I was attempting to avoid thinking about
our evening of poetry.
The fact that I laid the booklet down
and picked up my pen
to dissect with tender skill
the unsettling lurch of my womb
when the thought of you naked caught me by surprise
may tell you a little of how much I failed.
I used to bottle feelings quite successfully
using briny tears, acid thoughts
and a lot of pressure.
These days I just make jam.
This one’s a plum:
sweet,
tart.
Jo Waterworth (UK)
My home is in the World
Earth is green
Man says
He or she is black
He or she is white ,
But stream don’t say
She is blue or black
Trees give way to stream to flows
Streams give cool life to trees
They cooperate each other
Man says, they are Earthian but don’t do that!
This is difficult to say
Earth is green.
Pallab Pathak (India)
The Greenhouse
At the top of the field
a room of wood and glass
that holds wonders.
Air heavy with earth and growth,
sun-born globes red as rubies
hang like baubles.
They leave a tang on the hands
and juice down the chins
of little thieves –
pick the bottom ones or those
hidden behind sticky leaves,
the smallest are the sweetest.
Grown by hands calloused
with use, earth-furrowed:
my grandfather’s green thumbs.
Annest Gwilym, North Wales
———————————————————————————————————————————
Le Chatelier’s Principle (LCP)
Son:All chemical reactions(CRs)
Do not go linearly!
Do you know that mom!?
Mom: Some times directly do not,
Combine Reactants to produce desired product .
Yes ,I understood this fact,
from my dear science teacher .
Son :Reactants do combine ,my mom!
And settle at their equilibrium,
Reactions work both ways,
Products to reactants,
And reactants to products,
Where present is certain amount ,
Of reactants and products at any time.
Mom: Due to external parameters, variations ,
Like Temperature(T),Pressure (P) and concenteration ,
CR at equilibrium gets disturbed sometime;
LCP guides CR at equilibrium,
To act in such a way so as to keeps its ,
Equilibrium constant Keq, constant immortal every time.
Son: Oh yes! LCP is principle that serves guide lines,
For how will adjust a chemical reaction –fine,
With the equilibrium thrown off balance at time.
Mom: , My son, LCP can be represented ,
like, A-diwali lamp , diya earthen.
Son :Yes I know that mom!
Earthen lamps light, remains steady and still;
And make new equilibrium every time ,
When external change like T,
And P comes in their way,
To eliminate darkness in the world,
And show light to every one,
To see free and calm nature.
Mom:In a way LCP-is guide line/light ,
Like an Earthen diya light,
For millions CR/passerby it’s a guide,
Every time showing, life leans toward stability,
Even if we are in fearful time.
Dr.Sukarma Rani Thareja, Kanpur, India
(Poem written as a teaching aid to students)
Hospital Dying
When death comes near in a waiting room
It will not be hot, knife-instant, pulsing
With indifference;
It will not be cold, help-distant, slipping
In unnoticed.
It will not be brazen, pistoned, slamming
Through, refulgent.
It will be warm, comfortable, hand-held,
Doctoral, scrupulous,
Fair.
It will be well-prepared, expected, classic;
Timed, systematic,
Debonair.
Who needs to comes and goes –
Nurses, Priests – rostered,
Advice and sofas, leaflets, close.
But still that bastard.
Michael Docker (UK)
———————————————————————————————————————————
Accelerated Horror
The news of the day
tries harder and harder
to shock us
with horrible events,
progressively straining
boundaries of morality,
some crimes so terrible
terrorism seems more natural
by comparison,
since at least we understand
the nature of hate.
Gary Beck, from Ignition Point (USA)
Sixty-Five
It might be Hecate’s there
long-lost, a friend
lurking round the corner
waiting to greet you
crazed as the aura of fizz
of sparkly vision,
but then
who’s to say
and anyway,
which is most real –
the buzz of pen-on-the-page
of a writing-spell,
or an eye-chase
over another’s word music,
when under illusion it’s as though
that text is your own?
Whatever –
words can
dance,
jump and
spin
off the edge
of the page, can
spill
over
and over
into Life.
Julie Sampson
