Oasis in Rome
behind a hedge
on pavement edge
circling our tent
a waiter raises up a flap
on the brink of protest
'bout the stink
our camels make
but takes our order nonetheless
lemons figs and apricots
perfumed teas in china pots
and for the herders
'cross the street on the church steps
un carafe d'eau and plain baguettes
we tap out rythmns with our spoons
bubble-pipe mid exhaust-fumes
perfumed in bluish swirls
with music from a hidden source
anticipate the dancing-girls
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Musee des Beaux-Arts Nice
Notice on a worm-ridden Clavichord
'You are formally requested not to touch'
it was a bright October day
at the house of Princess Kotschoubey
that I was filled with mal-intent
a desire to touch her instrument
did I detect within her gaze
encouragement a spark before a blaze
and then tip-toed across the sunlit room
her guardian and t'was though that fading bloom
had wilted that Autumn rose was dead
so with little joy but peevishly
I touched other things instead
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Cous Cous Cous
one perfumed night he'd cracked
and halfway through her act
the belly-dancer's drummer
flipped and did a runner
from the Palace Crescent Restaurant Bistro and Grill
then a slightly over-the-hill
alpha-minor diner
thought he saw his chance
a bit of Eastern promise
a possible romance
misinterpreted her glance
and so far as he was able
he rattled at his table
with knife and fork and spoon
but a shadow crossed the moon
and someone sang Delilah
[...] Read more
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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The Whale
in the night-rain
driven from the river
'cross the railway-tracks
at traffic-lights
came face to face
with the ghost of a whale
searching for his jaw-bone
one-time strapped to the ceiling of a pub
and in the time it takes
the lights from red to green
in his eyes
thought I'd seen much more
as down the hill to the sea
at the dock-wall
saw his tail-light dip and fade
as he dived
tarmac deep
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poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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As Time Unfurls
along the pavement's edge
tracking the sun
holding on to preconceptions
of bathing in the pool of light
there between the chemist's and the charity-shop
and exotiques come down to drink
display their true colours
make music for the dancing-girls
and as time unfurls
wonder what has changed
not the slate grey rooves
or the red brick walls
and when the rain came
only those sheltering beneath sodden umbrellas
outside the street cafe
paused and glanced back
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poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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The Other Side of The Track
out from the depths of a mirror
past lemons sliced for fish
a sign says 'take the knife-edge'
across the railroad-track
to where a wooden church tower
displays it's manuscript of uneven teeth
and from the arid hills is cast
a net of criss-cross wires
and badly sketched from memory
a horse drawn seaward
has strayed with it's cart
listens to the engine's roar
at a blind bend in the track
all pickedoutofthedust on a twelve-string guitar
it's mirror-smoke and steam
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poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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The Moth
he laid aside the monthly Moth Gazette
he knew he'd rolled his final cigarette
too set in his ways
to deny his only vice
he stretched his wings
slightly frayed and singed
for one last flight
to an old flame
'twould be just a spurt of fire in the night
as she sucked him in
he'd feel no pain
a correspondent had surmised
another from a butterfly
took a different slant on things
but the god of moths
there where a single light-bulb hangs in space
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poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Death of the Puppeteer
the day the puppeteer died
with gloved hands
he thrust the shutters open wide
while out at sea
yachts edge balanced on the roof's red tiles
straggling in single file
and light explodes as he sings
and drags his strings
from the crooked white fingers on the bed
a new world unravelling deep inside his wooden head
somehow down the stairs
across the hall
the hotel dog draws back against the wall
he finds the shade
a slatted chair on the promenade
discovered near the carousel
they hung him up to dry
and there he dances in the wind
with wild and staring eyes
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Cote de Take-care
in the gardens of 'Preluscient Spor'
the Eucalypsa lies
and drolls each alternatory claw
with pleasurable sighs
honey-sweet his lantern jaws
those dentures flash and flay
it is a cuminside y'self
and bring a frentoplay
then a Bourgeoisie of Cannes-on sea
on this fallen afternoon
did cast a dogline poodle loose
and went to look too soon
from the hundred greens
where light in stealth
seeped in from the wine-dark sea
the flicking tongue of the kreel sped out
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poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Eyewitness
Adapted from Chretien de Troyes
'Le Conte du Graal le Roman de Percival
and the birds fell strangely silent before the Angels came
approached him through the forest
and he at a boyish game
then five Knights fully-armed came on at a walking pace
and the noise of wood on iron resounded in that place
how the branches of oak and hornbeam crashed against their shields
and lances striking armour as the horses twist and wheel
and he heard their hauberks jingling as still they weren't to be seen
then they came into the clearing and he saw it as a dream
their bright and shining helmets scarlet and purest white
and the gold and blue and silver and the sun was dazzling bright
and he cried 'God have mercy' and a sign of the Cross he made
and one of the Knights came forward, said 'Do not be afraid '.
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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