A collection of original verse – and other creative exercises in persuasion!
Permit me to lay claim upon, this, my right to poetic license;
neither refined nor precisely defined 'tis true to say,
but pointedly put all the same - with poisoned pen and harmless ink.
Alone a feeble gesture - extended to embrace that form from which said permission derives.
My mission here so stated:
To render the abstract real - or more so - or the other way around;
to strive to reveal the fragments of lives lived, or maybe just imagined;
to order to one neat whole, or tear awry, peel away to a messy many - or nothing at all.
Poetry or lyric or verse;
very fine words are these - sincere in their intent but here on shaky ground.
Profound comes to mind, to quickly recede.
So, then - if I may - just to put you straight:
My aspirations here, every bit as modest as the talent on display.
Rather, with hand on heart and a hint of a wink, I say:
Herewith, my 'scribblings'; not drivel, please!
To be taken seriously, or not so - just as you please.
Not a jest, but more (or less) a tease; these a matter of persuasion.
- Anne Dromache (March 5 2022)
WAVES
Overcome by
waves of emotion
she withdrew
into herself
Like last waters
receding-
leaving
in their wake
a sandy brew
Tides
they are a-turning
times tempered
still rolling
never held still
Ever beholden
not to self
nor any other–
alone
to the greater will
Seeking
some respite
some solace
in the quiet
a moment of retreat
Afar she sees
a dark mass forming–
To overwhelm
and end again–
as foam
awash
upon sandy shore.
- Anne Dromache (2021)
Thinking about Virginia Woolf's 1931 experimental novel “The Waves”.
LONG NIGHTS
Hark! Listen up
ye demons of the night
Hear now
this heavy heart
Hear how it pounds
Listen ...
loud and long it sounds -
Echoing...
in dark crevices
of emptied breast
And again...
still louder and longer --
Sounding as it does
like a dull pain
that will be heard
As one long born
first teeters
takes then first flight
And upon beating wing
flees the fold
Leaving
long alone
the old and worn
well-embedded
imprisoned
between cold walls
or unstained sheets
...well enough
alone
(the rest
best left unsaid)
Longing 't is
that calls aloud
through all these
dark nights long -
and now numbered -
alone
with the dead
Rising lowly
this season
this cold sun
Never dawning upon
these feeble senses
now long numbed -
if not for ever fled -
and unseen
(this has so been?
or so imagined?)
Instead
blurring good reason
with faded - and aged -
reminiscence
Like the widow’s veil
long forgotten
to be shed.
- Anne Dromache (2022)
LEAVIN' AIN'T EASY
exiting -
is surely not
his thing - he said
leaving -
oh please!
something
for others - he said
but not - really not -
for him
(hold on!
he's done it before -
this leavin’ thing -
takin’ with him
a whole bleedin' nation
& to god knows where!)
& then
resigned to his fate ...
(did he srsly say:
thems the breaks?)
he was gone -
again
& to god knows where
barely time
there was to shout:
oh & mister
please
do feed the cat
before you leave!
& ... before I forget:
return the bleedin’ keys!
- Anne Dromache (7th July 2022) - resignation of Boris Johnson as Prime Minister of the UK
