by Joe Winter | May 23, 2020 | Christmas in Calcutta, Poems
THE UNDEFEATED Memoir of an old Indian Infantry Officer of the British Raj UNCLE KANAI Uncle Kanai is outside again.He’s slung his shoes off – great wooden boatsthat sail the sea-road. When he visits Fatherhe hails us, marching up the path . . .then soon heaves to, a...
by Joe Winter | May 23, 2020 | Christmas in Calcutta, Poems
Dream of People There is a lagoon and a great loveliness of boatsis on it. The water is alightas if the sun declared a hidden hand of colour.All is movement: between the painted woodsis a dance of angels. And what music seems to burnas voices crowd the day. Waking to...
by Joe Winter | May 23, 2020 | Christmas in Calcutta, Poems
to be near to R. my storm my wave my seatumble-black hair my shining-eyedsun-spark burning armfulof seconds my lady of riversdown arm and finger and overthe sky of skin I know yousoundless I know you sightlessat heart of lotus I know youin a tangle of day and nightand...
by Joe Winter | May 23, 2020 | Christmas in Calcutta, Poems
Hand-Claspto R.At last under dark treeswe kneel. At last children of the nightwe enter the outside as ifto take its blessing. Below usthe river is holy that admitsas one, our trusting hands.At last the body’s ropesfall free, at last the sharp string of wordshas no...
by Joe Winter | May 23, 2020 | Christmas in Calcutta, Poems
At Gourock The sky speaks far behind a pale blue lightness of birth-and-death, mere change unseeable. In a palpable whiteness cloud-feelings range withholding, carrying knowledge. On the deep slight water-questions press the accord of Nature. A gull’s scimitar sweep....
by Joe Winter | May 23, 2020 | Christmas in Calcutta, Poems
On visiting a friend in her new homeFrances, always I have wanted to write about leaves.And when I say leaves I mean colours of leaves and their sounds,that whispering music, and their ever-slight journeying,a drawing-of-breath. By whom is it permittedin the lee of...
