by Chris Winter | May 12, 2023 | Singing in Mariupol, Poems
The flame is out There is no wisp left stirring. Nor is there hope: no claim upon a light-weave brilliance that hovered, shook the earth, and then was not. A jolt is left, a return to familiar ground, a wavering impression as of a click, a sudden switch-off flatness;...
by Chris Winter | May 12, 2023 | Singing in Mariupol, Poems
At Sissinghurst Touch hands in an intimatekiss touch sudden heatin a cold-fingered morning touch the leavesand fields and woods in a great gardenalight in October touch words let them lieat ease and mingle in a fine tousledbed of land touch a flower-brilliance...
by Chris Winter | May 12, 2023 | Singing in Mariupol, Poems
Towards what loveliness Towards what lovelinessdoes the day turn. A breath comes once againof a new being: as into the air climb songs,a palette of colours at a symposium,a feast of voices: now a blind speaking-in-tonguesof sky-shades, up for discussion in the...
by Chris Winter | May 12, 2023 | Singing in Mariupol, Poems
In a sweet drift In a sweet drift we went our waysas one. To each an intricate gifthad been entrusted. For a few daysin a sweet drift it had the look of a thing that stays.But when the end came it was swift.Something had snapped. No long delays, no drama of doubt, no...
by Chris Winter | May 12, 2023 | Singing in Mariupol, Poems
When you swim When you swim you are out there, breakingthe all-about surface again and againwith total abandon. The sea is your ally. When I swim I am nearer the shore. I am no match for a muscle of being that you embrace, that embraces you. We swam together a few...
by Chris Winter | May 12, 2023 | Singing in Mariupol, Poems
Goodbye Goodbye my dawn, that rim of lightthat might have lent to age its sight. It’s nowhere, knowing there would betoo little for itself to see. Goodbye my stream, whose many whisperscould not drown a sense of trespassagainst itself. No way was found . . .it left,...
