LET THE NIGHT COME

Erase the night,
For who is this that we hear calling?
Only the shadows of our dreams.

They cannot escape,
No freedom for them.
Nothing but starlight and long, dark pavements
They cannot walk upon,
Cannot run down, arms wide,
Faces alight with the memory
Of the half world they live in.

Shadows surely do not have a voice
To whisper words that stop us in our tracks.
Yet they haunt us.
Remain resistant to all that can be done
To chase them away.
To silence those memories of what is forever lost.

Do not forbid them, for when they want,
They turn us from sorrow and melancholy,
From terror and lost tears,
To remembrance  of a love and loveliness
We never want to forget.

Let the night come, then.
Let the shadows of our dreams walk among us,
Knowing they all belong to yesterday
And new days are yet to come.

                              © 2020 Gwen Grant

 

 THIS WAY JOYFUL

Thin bony lads
Whirl the girls
Swinging
In the sunshine,
Dancing
As if being young
Could conquer
Everything.

And we are glad
That
For the moment,
It does.

         © 2020 Gwen Grant

ELEMENTAL

Close your eyes, dear darling.
Rest your head on earth’s bold shoulders.
Don’t cry.
Don’t turn away,
For this is our father and our mother.

What else comes before or after?
But the breaking of the dark,
The lighting of the candle
With the living flame of hope,
With the obstinate courage
Of the smallest flower
Growing in frozen earth,
Fierce and unyielding,
Flowering its tiny space
Among the rocks of a barren mountain.

Close your eyes, dear darling,
And gather all your strength.

                   © 2020 Gwen Grant

All material on this blog is copyright but if anyone wants to use part of it,
then please get in touch.   http://www.gwengrant.co.uk

 

THIS IS NOT A THEM AND US SITUATION

The storm came blowing in,
Sending slow walkers
Scuttling for shelter,
Except the one who was lonely,
The one certain nobody cared.

‘Nonsense,’ hissed the rain.
‘Am I not here for you,
Pouring my silver water
Over your bony shoulders?’

Whilst the lightning,
Shaking her fiery hair,
Lit up the night sky
With hot lines of passion,
Celebrating the eternal union
Between them and us.

Now the lone walker,
Soaked to the skin,
Catches the raindrops in eager fingers,
Filling the sky with edgy laughter.

                                       © 2020 Gwen Grant

 

           EPIPHANY

Grey sunflowers, and poets
Sitting in old railway sidings
Alongside huge locomotives,
The clattering and banging
Of wrecked machinery
A perfect backdrop to a new world
In the making.

Kerouac and Ginsberg
Loving the whole, the tiniest bit of it.
Ginsberg breathing in grey sunflowers,
Remembering them for all those coming after.

Imprinting them on the fabric
Of that new world
Waiting just around the corner.

                             © 2020 Gwen Grant

All material on this blog is copyright but if anyone wants to use part of it,
then please get in touch.   http://www.gwengrant.co.uk