February 2015
I was born in Whitechapel, London and lived there for nearly forty years. For the past twelve years I have been living in a quiet village in Wiltshire, U.K. Village life is centred around a church, a post office, a corner shop and lots of gossip. I have always been fascinated by words and how they can be arranged into unlimited permutations. What those arrangements point to depends upon the knowledge held by the reader who then decides on the interpretation given to the text.
She the Seasons
She the seasons
turning round
and round
the village green
months familiar
cold and warm
people
and other creatures
passing there
gone and continuing
to-day, yesterday
and tomorrow.
Brief Stay At The Hospital
I. Arriving at the Hospital
Closed
in
by the
story.
II. Feeling Trapped
Soft
cheese
set
in a
mousetrap.
III. Worrying About Finances
The thought
of money,
greenbacks,
($)
obscuring
the view
of the valley,
(green)
through
the hospital
window.
IV. Night In The Street
A taxi passes by
yellow leaves
shimmering
under
the streetlight
in a soft drizzle.
V. Under Anesthesia
A vivid still life
painting; bluebells
and blueberries
in a bowl,
an empty
blue bottle
and a bluebird
at the open window.
VI. Waking
An imagined
drummer
sounding
in a
cloudburst.
VII. Heading Home
Snowflake
Snowfall
Snowfield
Snowball
Snowman
Snowdrift
Boy finished
playing
in the snow
and
heading home.
Visit to Jerusalem
I write to fashion
a pilgrim,
through the morning
the night
and the visited city
in the valley,
During feast and festival,
the recitations
of the Book of Psalms
at the Western Wall
and morning prayers
for the ear of God.
Museums and markets,
church and temple
and ancient narrow streets —
then onto the rampart walls
and a golden view
of the Dome.
Later, into a garden
and its evening tomb —
and then a walk
through tunnels
and along the way
of the cross.
Jewish, Christian,
Muslim, and Armenian:
four quarters
forming a whole
of the seasons
of a beautiful city.
©2015 Lewis Oakwood