Once, When The World Of Trees....
A girl, not young
Is at my door beating,
‘What do you want of me, ’
A voice comes, speaking.
‘Only of me and mine
That you took from me,
Only the comb and wine
That once belonged me.’
‘I have no tines of yours, ’
A voice is stating,
‘Only the dark, these walls
A long time waiting.’
‘What of that early breeze
That caught my blushing
Once, when the world of trees
Went by, rushing? ’
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Web
Two old spinsters
Sitting in the barn,
One used candlewick
The other used yarn,
One wore a bonnet
With a white lace trim,
The other bobbed her hair
With a dragonfly pin.
They spun and they spun
‘Til the bobbins were full,
They'd squeeze out the knots
Put a twist in the wool,
They spun through the day
And on through the night
And glared at each other
If it didn't look right.
While up in the beams
Of the barn overhead
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Dong Tou Dao
I cannot stay, I cannot go,
And where I am but you would know,
I walk where feet have walked before
But your feet linger at the shore.
The sea, immense, this great divide
With each on each, the other side,
Where once we walked as moon on moon,
Now one must light our afternoon.
That narrow beach, I see it now,
That lonely beach at Dong Tou Dao
Where you laughed once, like tinkle bells
While I went looking for strange shells.
And when you walked, so full of grace
Along the sand, that lonely place
I saw my moon reflect your eyes
With ancient wisdom, speak Chinese.
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Six of Hearts
Where are the yelps and the cries now, Magda,
Where did the squeals and the laughter go?
Where the bright eyes and the sighs now, Magda?
Gone where the shadows of darkness go!
What of your trembling hands now, Magda,
What of the tears from your eyes that flow?
Playing your Patience for time now, Magda,
Soon you will know what the others know!
These are the cards that have fallen, Magda,
Helga and Hilde, and Helmut, your son,
These were the fruit of your lies now, Magda,
Holde and Hedda and Hiede undone!
Loyalty comes at a price now, Magda,
Takes you unsteadily into the yard,
Wait the release of the bullet, Magda,
Taking each memory, bitter and scarred!
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Chimneys of Lime
I’ve walked at your ruins
To seek out your history,
Charted the runes of you
Stone upon stone,
I’m left with damp walls
And a sense of some mystery;
What tamed the pride
That led on to your fall?
Some spirit entangled you
Lived in you yesterday,
Drove you, dispersed, and then
Lay you down still,
Now all that is left
Is grim ruin and disarray,
Relics of life,
Strength of purpose, and will.
Cairns and old bones at
The granite-hard cemetery,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Harry the Wu
What can I do, Harry the Wu,
A policeman will come
And ask questions of you,
He'll pull out his book
And his pencil, too,
And look very sternly
At Harry the Wu.
Oh, Harry the Wu, what did you do,
While I was in bed
Going down with the flu,
I didn't get up until
Half past two,
And you're so impatient,
Harry the Wu.
I knew there was something that
I had to do,
I had to get up and feed
Harry the Wu,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Who Cares?
What ever happens when a love goes wrong
When a love goes wrong some morning,
Goes wrong like the singer of a blackbird song
That a blackbird's not been born in?
Lost like the flutter of a butterfly's flight
In the wild south wind's clash-clatter,
Or a heartbeat stopped as an oak tree's lopped;
Who cares?
Why? What does it matter?
What ever happens to a love-lost love
To a love-lost love, come Autumn,
Or a bare beech, birch, or a grey stone church
Or the leaves that the birch tree brought them;
To walk in the shelter of a shaded lane
With the last of the lost love's chatter,
Like the half of a whole, or a lonely soul,
Who cares?
Why? What does it matter?
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Liar
'I cannot tell the truth, ' he said,
'In truth, I always lie.'
I lay back on the gentle grass
And looked up at the sky,
He'd said it all before, of course,
He had me taken in,
Until I came to realize
Each lie was like a sin.
Each lie he told subverted truth,
Each 'truth' was but a lie,
If he could never tell the truth...
I turned my head to sigh!
'And so you lie with every breath,
Is what you're telling me? '
'That's right, they say I can't lie straight
In bed, yessir, that's me! '
'You lie, ' I said, 'you lie again,
If you can't tell the truth! '
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Book Of Numbers
These cheque book eyes that peer on out
With fifty four long years in train
Would beg the question, steeped in doubt:
‘Are balances brought home the same? ’
Are books of columns kept somewhere
With costs and profits to each name,
Does some laborious clerk inscribe
Each fall from grace, each cry of pain?
And is there some huge reference book,
A million pages long that gives
A code to score each passing thought,
To digitise each man that lives?
A ten for love that long survives
Its primal urge, a minus four
For each divorce, and minus three
For every child brought down, of course.
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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China Song (Zhong guo ge qu)
Last night I heard a Chinese song
That conjured almond eyes,
It swelled and soared, and took the air
I sought to breathe, my friend,
That song poured out the sadness that
I’d seen behind your lies,
It soared and swelled, and slipped and dipped,
Heartbroken at the end.
But you just smiled and chattered,
Though your words were terse and bleak,
They hid some strange confusion, and
A hurt that would not mend,
I’d seen you cry before, with not
A tear on either cheek,
When Chinese tear-ducts dry, but cry -
It seems that you pretend.
Five thousand years of sorrow
Taught you Chinese not to weep,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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