November 2014
i live about forty miles from London in a place called Basingstoke, Hampshire. I have published some seven collections of poetry and have about a thousand poems floating around the web. But more important to me is if someone I don't know were to send me an email telling me they enjoy my work.
Editor's note: You'll enjoy seeing and hearing Marc read from his poetry here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpjFoTSYt4s
Editor's note: You'll enjoy seeing and hearing Marc read from his poetry here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpjFoTSYt4s
Mr Tewksbury
The old man sits in the wheel chair
He is colourless and grey at the same time
If they folded the wheelchair in half
They would not need to take him out
They could fold him up and put him in the corner.
"Where the hell did Mister Tewksbury go? Oh there you are"
Unfold him and watch him pop out
like an unlively jack-in-the-box
You have to get up close to him
to see whether he may have gone already
whether he will open his eyes
like in a horror movie.
He is the closest to death that it is possible to be
Like all of us
But it doesn't make us live
with any more passion.
Axis
What about
if you could slow the world
down
so everybody would really
take the time
to look at all those things around them
Watch
as it slowed to a stop
time would not matter
no one would age
no one would ever need to die
we could all look at each other
and know
that we were immortal
as long as we all
stopped
got out of the cars
leaving them in the roads.
just looking in wonder
at what someone else
had made for us to enjoy
Job Stealers
I looked at the college kids
as I came out of the shop.
They were looking at the sky
"Look it is
raining over there but not here"
They had found the place where rain had started
The curtain from dryness to wetness
but these were just kids
they should not be finding things like that
that is my job
The Dead Tree
I looked at the tree
it was dead
grey bark
no leaves in its outstretched hands
but still it stood tall
No one could ever knock it down
a tree like that
proud
even in death
Then I saw
it was holding
onto its last breath
It had a job to do
And I remembered
what was behind the tree
the old church
and before that
the cemetery
The tree was a warning
And as the dead bodies crept into its trunk
only one thing was for sure
I would not walk past here at night
Eternal
Where do thoughts come from
where do pain and pleasure come from
where does
pure joy come from
where does love come from
it can't all come from me
it must live on its own
be alive on its own
even when i am gone
it will surely go on
The old man sits in the wheel chair
He is colourless and grey at the same time
If they folded the wheelchair in half
They would not need to take him out
They could fold him up and put him in the corner.
"Where the hell did Mister Tewksbury go? Oh there you are"
Unfold him and watch him pop out
like an unlively jack-in-the-box
You have to get up close to him
to see whether he may have gone already
whether he will open his eyes
like in a horror movie.
He is the closest to death that it is possible to be
Like all of us
But it doesn't make us live
with any more passion.
Axis
What about
if you could slow the world
down
so everybody would really
take the time
to look at all those things around them
Watch
as it slowed to a stop
time would not matter
no one would age
no one would ever need to die
we could all look at each other
and know
that we were immortal
as long as we all
stopped
got out of the cars
leaving them in the roads.
just looking in wonder
at what someone else
had made for us to enjoy
Job Stealers
I looked at the college kids
as I came out of the shop.
They were looking at the sky
"Look it is
raining over there but not here"
They had found the place where rain had started
The curtain from dryness to wetness
but these were just kids
they should not be finding things like that
that is my job
The Dead Tree
I looked at the tree
it was dead
grey bark
no leaves in its outstretched hands
but still it stood tall
No one could ever knock it down
a tree like that
proud
even in death
Then I saw
it was holding
onto its last breath
It had a job to do
And I remembered
what was behind the tree
the old church
and before that
the cemetery
The tree was a warning
And as the dead bodies crept into its trunk
only one thing was for sure
I would not walk past here at night
Eternal
Where do thoughts come from
where do pain and pleasure come from
where does
pure joy come from
where does love come from
it can't all come from me
it must live on its own
be alive on its own
even when i am gone
it will surely go on
©2014 Marc Carver