Five Poems

Poetry
B.T. Joy


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Photo Credit: quadrapop

Love Story Dreaming

tonight the moon is a pale woman
in love again with the night earth

tonight the earth is a war-sick man
in love again with the distant moon

tonight the heartbeat of seas quicken
and lips of rivers rush on estuary shores

and somewhere between
the skyline and the ground

a man falls into a dream
of a pale woman
and a war-sick man

tonight there is a current of sadness
palpable as ozone in the frozen fog air

tonight glad winds run the pathways
consoling even shut blooms from grief

candle-flame stars shudder with old light
stones shift, peaks reassemble their shapes,

and among it all
loneliness reconciling with solitude

and tonight I am a man
falling into a dream of a pale woman
and a war-sick man

 

The Rub

the sun whitens
the morning silences
that hiss and shiver among
the crannied shadows
and in June’s heat
the butterfly abandons itself
to the maze of the dandelion fields
the greatest obstacle
to universal love
is the prerequisite of admitting
the complexity of individual love
meaning,
how can I love everyone
before I see my love for you
not as a bird nested in a certain heart
but as a bird in flight through the dizzying
vastness of sky?

 

My Love For The World

my love for the world
is an old man’s love
a patting
of the hedge-row’s shoulders
a washing
of the feet of trees
I’m told I’m young
but even in that I feel the world
and I are growing old together
the wind is our tired argument
and the rain the tenderness after
with hyacinth whispers
she calls me deeper
with fingers of grass
she caresses me
and not obsessed
to make love
I only touch love
sunlit leaf
by sunlit leaf

 

Why I Write

for now
I am almost breath
a human being
doing nothing
you ask me why
I write
I answer that I’m not
a poet because I can’t be
a painter
that I write
because I hear words
and fall in love with them
then
so many years a writer
and you, who’ve only started,
teach me poetry
telling me
about the nasturtiums
in your sister’s garden
you called them
a bank of orange light

 

Last Meeting

I think of him breathing oxygen
on the couch-bed that forgot him

the ashes are ten years old now
and I have seen regions, worlds

here a fluttering of jackdaws rise
casting shade on whitened water

and the next moment they merge
with dark woods on the shoreline

pencil

B.T. Joy is a Glaswegian poet who received his Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing and Film Studies in 2009. He has written two volumes of haiku: In The Arms Of The Wind and The Reeds That Tilt The Sky, as well as having poetry published in Obsessed With Pipework, Toasted Cheese, Presence, Canon’s Mouth, Paper Wasp, Sketchbook, Bottle Rockets, Mu and Frogpond. He has been an administrator, a ranch hand, a writing mentor, a farmer and a salesman; living and working in Glasgow, London and the USA. Email: BTJ0005uk[at]aol.com

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