REDUCING THE DISTANCE
The haughty stars
Keep their distance
Even as we
Reach for them.
That’s O.K.
We never grew up
Thinking we could have
All that we wanted.
We would just like
To borrow
A little glory,
A little love
To see us through
The days in front of us.
Not going to happen.
Like everything else,
Love and glory
Lie closer to home,
Living quietly in each other,
Well within reach.
©2021 Gwen Grant.
Those Palais dancers never had to bother if they were good at talking
or not because there was only one question anyone asked when they got
on the dance floor and that was the title of this poem! Followed briskly
by ‘Where have you come from?’
DO YOU COME HERE OFTEN?
Dancing was never better
Than when they danced together.
She stood on his toes,
He trod on her heels.
Sent her twirling around
Then forgot to catch her,
So that she whirled across that floor
All on her own,
Bumping into other dancers
Like a car out of control.
When she found him again,
He was thinking of leaving.
Thinking maybe they should
Have gone for a walk.
Seen a really good film,
Perhaps gone for a drink,
Done anything, rather than dancing.
But then it was the last waltz
And he held her tight,
Her head on his shoulder,
His lips close to hers,
Their kiss tasting sweet and wild.
Very, very slowly smooching
Around that suddenly lovely floor.
Loving the dance,
Loving each other.
Glad they had chosen to come dancing.
©2023 Gwen Grant
Watching an archaeology programme that looked back to the 1930’s , it showed an old
site in a cave, where an archaeologist was carefully gathering pieces, slivers, almost
splinters of wood, when excavations had to stop. Everything had to stop because threats
of the Second World War were gathering. Later, when the bits of wood that had been
found were put together, this most beautiful Lion Man who had been in hiding there
all the time appeared. The moment I saw him, I fell in love.
THE LION MAN
This lion man
Is so beautiful
It makes my heart
Tremble.
For in its
Wrecked and lovely
Countenance,
I see
The endurance
Of all
Born from darkness
Into this greater darkness,
Where every soul realizes
Its aloneness.
Its bitter,
Bleak,
Irredeemable
Loneliness.
Yet lovers must love,
Words fall
From loving lips.
Hands touch
Souls
Courageous
In their enduring,
Gentle
In their laughter,
Resolute
In their bold living.
Only compassion
Can bring
Light
To that darkness.
Only hope
Inhabit those frozen
Wastes
Of aloneness.
Only love
Create the Lion man
In us all.
© 2019 Gwen Grant
SEPTEMBER MORNING
September morning,
Apples hanging heavy on the tree.
Spider webs and enormous spiders
Weaving webs in the rain.
Tiny wrens,
Small hungry sparrows
Trying to make a difference
To a world sodden with threats
Of nuclear war.
© 2023 Gwen Grant
I always look for these shells whenever a bit of sand hoves
into view. They are such a gift. My hopes were pinned on
the promise of far places they offered. Some of that promise
has been redeemed but nowhere near as much as I would have
liked. One of my brothers, on the other hand, went to very
far away places, with National Service and my husband was a
sailor who sailed to far flung places. Both should have been me!!
(I’m going to apologise for the word ‘hoves’ as I’ve used this for
ever meaning as ‘when something comes into view.’ However, I now
discover it’s not in any dictionary. Can anyone shed light on its
provenance? As it is, I think it must be colloquial?)
CONCH SHELL
All life lies
In the curved hollow
Of this curling shell
Resting in the sand.
Full of silent loveliness,
Of enduring beauty,
Even when smashed
Against sad wrecks
Or drowned in rock pools.
Put it to the ear,
Let the oceans
Of the world
Whisper their enchantment.
Of whales,
Of new places,
Of new moons and stars,
Of ships that pass
In the night.
Fill the listening heart
With desire, with longing,
To be swept around the world
On the backs of white horses.
©2023 Gwen Grant.
Poems by Gwen Grant 