Gnomon

Leaf 174 – Reflections

 

This poem is about a remarkably long and slender icicle which I once saw while I was travelling in Switzerland during the winter. It was at a town, somewhere up in the mountains. I’d never seen such deep snow drifts before. But looking at this single very long icicle glinting in the sun, slowly dripping from the eaves of a tall building – it seemed rather menacing. Hanging there like the sword of Damocles. I couldn’t stop myself imagining it suddenly falling and impaling someone below – bringing their life to a rather sudden and gruesome end, like Father Brennan in the horror film, ‘The Omen’ (1976). But as I watched, the icicle did nothing more than gleam and occasionally drip in the sunlight. In a sense, I began to see this as sinister in a different way altogether. It suddenly seemed to take on a more profound and poignant, symbolic connotation. If one viewed the long icicle and its shadow as a kind of natural sundial, it now seemed to me that (through a simple process of environmental attrition) it was actually counting down, very slowly but inevitably, towards a greater, global catastrophe.

 

 

GNOMON

 

Shadow shortening – 

icicle drips from

the eaves.

 

 

This haiku was originally written and posted on Bluesky in response to a #vssdaily writing prompt: 'ice.'

Photograph credits: HippoPX & HippoPX

Beneath Shimmering Waters

Leaf 173 – Art Inspired

 

Priscilla Watkins - Painting from the 'Brockwell Lido' series

Another of my many #artinspired poems. This one came to me after a painting by Priscilla Watkins (from her ‘Brockwell Lido’ series) evoked a memory of seeing a friend of mine swimming underwater in the pool of a hotel in Cairo, way back in the summer of 1992. This remarkable painting looks almost like a real photo. I feel like I have so many photograph-like moments such as this one preserved in my mind. Memories which can transport us back in time in an instant.

 

 

Watching her sleek form

slip gracefully by

beneath shimmering waters.

 

 

Eating Toast with Tori

Leaf 172 – Art Inspired

 

Tori Amos - Under the Pink (1994)

Tori Amos’s ‘Under the Pink’ (1994) was one of those albums which I played over and over when it first came out. That and her first album, ‘Little Earthquakes’ (1992), were among my favourites – along with other contemporary albums by Pearl Jam, REM, INXS, U2, Crowded House, Suede, and James. These were the bands who defined my teenage years during the 1990s. I must have bought the single, ‘Cornflake Girl’, before I bought the album. It featured the song, ‘Sister Janet’, as its b-side. The lyrics of ‘Cornflake Girl’ reminded me of my own primary school; in the playground of which, aged around five years old, we all wanted to be in the Bee Gang. Eventually I got to be in the Bee Gang, and was supremely disappointed to find out that there was little more to being in the Bee Gang than simply being able to say you were in the Bee Gang. An early bathetic awakening of sorts in the manifold mysteries of human life exposed for the fraud-like shams which they always essentially are, perhaps? – Hence, the cryptic lyrics of Amos’s songs appealed to me. One critic in the NME at the time described listening to ‘Under the Pink’ as like “being locked inside a semantic castle.” Enchanting, obscure, dark and light, sinister and yet playful – it seemed to me to glint like a poetic mirror ball slowly turning in my mind. One line from ‘Sister Janet’ though always pops into my mind whenever I am making breakfast and always makes me smile, because I still don’t fully fathom what it might actually mean …

 

 

TOAST

 

Every morning –

I hum in my head

a Tori Amos tune,

while slipping a buttered

blade in the marmalade.

 

 

The Wren

Leaf 171 – Art Inspired

 

Liza Adamczewski - Garden Icons: Singing for his Supper

This is another of my #artinspired haiku. I wrote it after seeing this magical painting by contemporary artist, Liza Adamczewski, from her ‘Garden Icons’ series. It reminded me of the times when I’ve seen wren’s flitting about the undergrowth and heard their distinctive song. It is amazing that such a tiny bird is capable of creating so many decibels, but it is always an unfailing delight to hear them. Especially on a cold winter’s morning.

 

 

Small yet

sonorous –

the wren exhales.

 

 

Winter Wren Song - Recorded by Garth McElroy, 2011.

 

Oliver Wright - Wren (2021) Nature Picture Library

The Rose Bush

Leaf 170 – Looking Back

 

Like my mother and my grandparents before me, I’ve always been fond of gardening.

 

 

Alas, the rose bush

that followed us from

grandmother’s garden

to mother’s garden –

unable to emigrate with me.

 

 

 

Photograph by Tim Chamberlain

Pine Cones from Kew

Leaf 169 – Looking Back

 

Very nearly ten years on now … It was far too cold a day to be wandering around Kew Gardens, but the concert hall that evening was nice and warm.

 

 

Pine cones from Kew –

first date souvenirs,

beside our wedding photo.

 

 

 

Photograph by Tim Chamberlain

Three Copper Pennies

Leaf 168 – Art Inspired

 

I have a secret soft spot for the songs of Frank Sinatra. They’re great to sing-a-long to. This poem was written and originally posted on Bluesky (or, should that be, “ole Blue Skies”?!) in response to a #FromOneLine prompt to write a poem starting with the line “Three copper pennies.” Naturally, the first thing which sprang to mind was that fountain:

 

 

Three copper pennies,

somewhere in Rome –

a busker sings Sinatra.

 

 

Frank Sinatra - Three Coins in the Fountain (1954)

 

Photograph source: Royalty Exchange