Hidden Gems

Dulled with hidden sparkle

Uncovered in the core

Polished velvet glove redeems

Golden glitz and more

In where and what

The earth conceals

In muddied waters deep

Gems revealed in sparkled form

Release

We must not keep

The treasures as they surface

In the light of oxygen

Whose breaths we live

 Replenish

So life begins again

May Music, Day 20 – One Among Many

Many years ago I studied the poem, ‘Icarus Allsorts’ by Roger McGough, as part of the war poems series my year group had to learn for a ‘major’ exam. I learned it by heart at the time. I think his poem is as valid today as it ever was although, back then, the preoccupation with impending nuclear war felt like a creepy necessity; a scary dystopia we more than imagined we had every chance of being part of sooner rather than later.

The last song, alphabetically, on my I-pod play list, as requested by Twindaddy, made me recollect this poem.  It is ’99 Red Balloons’ by Goldfinger.

It floats now,

 alone,

though one among many,

aspirationally buoyed

beyond the rest,

elevated,

tethered in hearts,

in words,

multi-threaded bytes

reaching

faster, higher, stronger.

Olympian endurance,

against

the  machine.

Whetstone

Spit and rub,

hone the cleaver,

sharpen

surgeon’s scalpel, your knife,

circulate moisture

border to rim,

glanced instruments

worthy to slice

 through leather-bound carcass,

the toughest of flesh,

diseased

or virgin pure,

unanaesthetised,

we cope, we grimace,

we lather,

so we endure.

Compacted grit,

bedevilled,

measured,

quarrier’s immortal bone

stropped metallica,

purposed, wet,  

abraded life

against dry whetstone.

Rotate the edge, buckle not 

when dryness 

halts, grinds progress

in task,

double-sided finish

separates blunt

from acuity’s  strength,

perspicacity sharpened, unmasked.

 

Books In My Mind

Old stories revisited and pictures viewed,

Words known from before, inhaled and imbued.

Classics to keep inside and forever,

Authors of wisdom and words that I treasure.

Turning the pages of yesterday’s books,

Remembering when I first had a look

At fantastical writing from many admired,

Enthralled by the images their stories inspired.

Then turning to new, where words are devotion

Embracing the talent of author’s emotions.

Wondering how they find what to say

In marvellous prose and poetic array.

Searching for new meanings inside the old,

In all of the stories I’ve ever been told,

In all of the writings I’ve ever read,

That now live inside me, exist in my head.

Profusion of persons making a trail

Imparting illusion I breathe and inhale.

Delightful depictions of destiny found

In reading and sorting these books all around

On library’s shelves where they live till I find

Rediscovered treasures I keep in my mind.