by Pam Crane
After the conflagration
Villagers came to stare
At the grave of an ancient nation
That nobody knew was there.
In time they gathered the metal
Strewn over Michael’s soil,
Learned how to work and fettle
For tool and girder and coil.
And metal became a token,
Contending came with the skill.
Ambition and fear were woken.
Their future awaits them still ...
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VISITING TIME
I wandered, lonely as a cloud
Of smoke outside a cancer ward
Where cigarettes are not allowed,
And wondered where the drugs were stored.
Inside that safe? Behind this door?
I’d never cased the joint before.
I sauntered through the coffee shop,
Down disinfected corridors,
On past the sluices, man with mop
(I wonder if he ever scores)
Averted gaze from turning heads
In rows of most un-private beds.
At last I found the pharmacy.
“Hallo my love!” the lady smiled.
“Who is it that you’ve come to see?
Your Mum? Your Dad? Another child?”
Behind her, stacked on every shelf
The stash I needed for myself -
Barbiturates, and methadone,
And other stuff that I could sell.
(I couldn’t pull this job alone;
I’d have to bring a mate as well.)
I would impress her. I’m no fool!
“I’m learning medicine at school.
I’ve done the body, done the brain;
I’ve started on prescribing now.
I really need your help to train -
Miss said the doctors would allow
Me in your store to make a list
So I can be a specialist.”
I don’t know why she rang the bell
Or why the docs and coppers came.
My spiel was going really well
Until she asked me for my name.
At dawn they raided my old crowd...
I wander lonely in my cloud.
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A LOVER’S PASSYONATTE REPLYE
( a metaphysickal sonet)
Whereas two appels sittynge on a gait
Do mounch eache othere, and do slyly mait,
Do I oft wyshe thatt wee more often coulde;
And synce wee cannot, I am verry wood.
I looke upp att the Moone; shee ful wel knowes,
Thy beauteous forme to mee shee sholde disclose,
And I sholde drynke the honey of thyne eyen,
And lie wyth thee, and mak thee wholly myne;
But synce the dayes must Tortoys-lyk crawle bye,
And nott lyk swyfte swallowës y-flye,
Onn theyre harde bak moste paciount I must ryde,
My wyngës clipt, my povre tong y-tyed;
And wyth the swallowes sende my litel verse,
And numbely wate for thee upon myne erse.
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EVER-DECREASING CIRCLES...
Though I can be nobody else but me,
If I were not myself, how would it be?...
Myself would serve the soul of someone other -
Not me - and I myself would rule another!
Yet if I occupied this other I,
I still would wonder how and where and why
This other person lived who wasn’t me ...
And so run on in circles endlessly!
There is some consolation in the thought
That someone somewhere equally is fraught
With puzzlement - since he alone is he,
Then how on earth can someone else be me???
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REDISCOVERING RABBIT WEEK
Does he think?
Too small to be real, bearing
A marked resemblance to the trousered rabbit;
Apparently knitted,
The only clear distinction between him and the thing
With which he holds communion
Being
The cap of golden fuzz over the ears
And definitely fingers.
Rabbit is an artifact, however.
Verily knitted.
Rabbit, flung, sprawls
Uncomplaining.
Rabbit chewed
Is mercifully bloodless;
Rabbit,
Inspected and abused, deserves
A medal for patience.
As for the other
Small cuniculomorph,
Agent of these ritual indignities
And muttered spells,
There is more behind the
Blue-bead eyes than bears question,
Far more than old nylon stockings and foam chips,
There is (and wonder at it)
Sufficient
Unto itself and still enough to spare
Of magic mind
Wherewith to gaze life into his woollen ally
So I could swear
The beast reciprocates the stare.
- And does he think??
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Head of TV Drama’s New Year Sonnet
To The Editor
Radio Times
80, Wood Lane
London
W12 0TT
November 16th 1996
I promise to announce the start
At the beginning, and not part-
Way through the hour’s dramatic art.
I promise not to wreck the plot,
Parading its climactic shot
For weeks in every trailer slot.
I promise not to fray the nerves
Of those the Corporation serves
By throwing fancy camera curves.
I promise not to over-run,
Delaying what should have begun,
Spoiling the nation’s video fun;
And promise - after the Star’s Wardrobe and Stunts -
To credit the catchy theme music for once!
(2017, 20+ years on, and nothing has changed.
Surprise, surprise.)
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SARSAPARILLA
My husband had to come to see
How Pendle was - but minus me -
And here acquired the pleasant habit
Of sucking a Sarsaparilla Tablet.
A friendly, enterprising chap,
He dropped two packets in my lap
On his return, and watched my face
For signs of pleasure or grimace.
To cut a happy story short,
We soon were through the few he bought.
It will be miles and months before
We come back North and buy some more!
So, could you post to us in Kent
Enough to meet the cheque I’ve sent?...
To last till Pendle calls again?
Yours sincerely,
Pamela Crane.
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PAINTWORK
Cradled in the Mayor's Arms
So many happy years,
We knew our Dulux Weathershield
(Affordable - we're not well-heeled!)
Would last; but now the paint has peeled
As the Millennium nears.
It held the Hurricane at bay,
It shimmered through the Drought,
But lorries pounding through the night
Shake wall and window, southern light
Has bleached the blue and aged the white
And cracks are opening out.
Friends and strangers come to share
A sanctuary here;
Their welcome needs a shining door,
Bright windows to the bedrooms four
Whatever storms we have in store,
To shelter and to
cheer!
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MANALYSIS
Obsessed and upset by the inexplicable fact,
We live - a yellow sun between two darknesses
That shadow and touch it with something infinite there,
An Always inescapable where something precious is;
But hidden under Time.
Oppressed and beset by the inner splitting of fact
We give a narrow - unforeseen though hardness is -
And shadowy muchness of nothing definite there,
An all-ways inextricable and clumsy preciousness
That isn't worth a dime.
( A bit of fun to rhyme!)
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SELF-SUFFICIENT
Shouting between islands
How Are You
Signalling from peak to higher peak
I Love You - whensoever the mist may clear -
Shaking hands
with a fellow briefly in a passing plane
Able to speak
to you
on several wavebands
Happy Birthday Dear
Taking a turn as compère of the week
I say again
I wish you happiness in your sea-girt
sanctuary
wiping guano and turtle-dirt
away from Beethoven and Vera Lynn
with plenty
of reasonably clean
sand to bury
your head in
I hope you enjoy
your cave
No doubt you will employ
a great deal of native ingenuity
in making the most of such an opportunity
to Save
Have fun
among the birds, up in the Seventh Heaven
and give my regards
to Angels Eleven
You won’t fall down;
the fuels you will need are only words
and a front seat in the Sun -
Hot Air
will keep you there
Safe out of real touch real sight real sound
Tucked away in a high womb
you deeply care
for the lack of loving-room
responsibly and gratefully aware
of Us who wave and wonder from the ground
with whom you share
astounding
Wisdom
over the air
We love you
Yes we listen
avidly to Number One for his Opinion
amid the static …
Bones wither away under the skin
a soul begins to
feel
The cold and comes down out of the attic
to make up on the missing
Joie de Vivre Hot Pants Passion
emphatic
communiqués press handouts Lone Yachtsman kissing
Miss Erotic Plastic
Nineteen-thing
fell flat
we walk straight through
you we never notice you we know you
were never real
Visiting gods are inconceivable
and in Spring
hermits are out of fashion
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ARMAGEDDON
The day the moon fell
Music screamed up a nerve in the world
The robins crowed like cockerels
And the wind blew all the air away
The day the moon fell
Ice cracked the face of the sun
There were blue strawberries
And a rampant worm bit a sparrow in half
The day the moon fell
Love and hate collided and blew up
The last Pope ran for Parliament
And God met the funny side of hell
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ROMANUS ROMANO
O come to the shade
Of the cool colonnade -
Don't bother with vestimenta!
What use is a tunic
To Roman or Punic?
This is the community centre!
Vel Gallic, vel Grecian
Your friend Diocletian
Invites you to bathe at your leisure.
It's such fun to swim in
(As well as the women!)
The scenery promises pleasure
Diverting to play with;
And you have a way with
The ladies that seems to amuse them.
So let's make a foursome.
Ointment? I'd adore some!
But never mind clothes - we don't use them.
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ON THE BRINK
... to breathe this element of muted sound
and think only the things that fishes do ...!
… I, squat on the parapet, look down.
My mind, lapped in that weed-lucent brown
Mapping the mossy under-arch with light
hereunder shimmering ... lean over! Look!
See? Touch it! (Not too far. Don't fall.
Not yet.) Trickery, you see. The bright
thing, like all wind-spun happiness, shook
and left you to the darkness ... yea my mind
moves to the slap and the sway of it.
... shall I be feeding the fishes, now?
Or will the fishes give me
to eat corals, rocksand, sunlight filtering,
turtleshell, chilled fringes of moon;
weed-broth from the crab's mouth
and mud sifted in silver,
seasoned with seed-pearls,
served in a mussel-shell
with a spoon?
Come come, itty-bitty man!
Come come! The fishes sing.
One for Mummy,
one for Daddy,
eat your nice pudding!
Ha! The blue waves. New and drinkable sky.
Out there where the rainbow lives
and soon shall I.
The men who poison the rainbow
poison the mind of me
with an ill wind, and a sick rain,
and they drive me to the sea;
and the sun lies in a crooked way,
and gods die as people pray,
and fear spreads fungous through decay.
But I shall soon be free ...
... soon in the sun-silk water I shall drop away,
leaving my clothes behind, for there is blight on them.
Soon I am ready. Are you coming with me?
... leaving your clothes behind, for there is blight on them.
Why don't you take them off? Take off your clothes, I say!
Your soul is rotting with it - I can see the mark,
mark of a madman. Stay behind and save the world!
I shall be under the bridges that you burn
crowned with a crown of swimming sticklebacks
to keep the twisted thorns out of my hair.
Washed in the running radiance of pearls
I'll have sweet skin, and I shall laugh! as stern
Nemesis chokes you in your deadly air.
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Hiawatha & the Midges
By the shores of Gichi Gumi
Rising from the Big Sea Water
See the cloud of tiny midges
Hear them singing in the sunshine
Happy to be free and flying
Happy to be near the forest
Near the tents and near the tipis
Hear them singing to the horses
Pawing in the summer forest
See them settle on Nokomis
Stitching hides and flapping wildly
See them cover Minnehaha
Running to the cooling water
See them follow Hiawatha
Running after Minnehaha
Flying in their ears and noses
Lodging in the braid and buckskin
Up the skirt and in the breechcloth
In the moccasins
and leggings
Feasting on their legs and faces
Then said mighty Hiawatha
I will make a fire of pine wood
Offer to the Great White Spirit
To the great Gichi Manitou
Many prayers and supplications
Ask Him how to stop the itching
How to send away the midges
Then he rescued Minnehaha
From the shining Big Sea Water
Sent her off to look for firewood
And he sent Nokomis with her
Itching, scratching as they foraged
Still pursued by hymning midges
Then the mighty Hiawatha
In the whining of the midges
In the cries of Minnehaha
Heard Gichi Manitou speaking
Heard Him ask for many branches
Set in heaps around the tipis
Burning in a sacred circle
Sending up their smoke to Heaven
And he said to old Nokomis
This will chase away the midges
This will stop their biting, biting
Their infuriating singing
Go and make a paste of honey,
Cedar, salt and burning garlic
This will stop the bites from itching
On your wrinkled face and fingers
On my hero’s breast and belly
Then with all the balm remaining
I will massage Minnehaha
As the smoke ascends to Heaven
And she smiles in my embraces
See the cloud of angry midges
Rising from the tents and tipis
Out of wampum bag and wigwam
Rising angry through the forest
In the smoke that bears them upward
Smoke of sly Gichi Manitou
Chasing from the sacred circle
From the skin of Minnehaha
From the skin of old Nokomis
From the skin of Hiawatha
From their cradle by the Water
All the midges of the forest
Then the sly Gichi Manitou
Called upon great Animikii,
Called the Thunderer to aid him
Save His people from their torment
For the Thunderbird is mighty
Mightier than Hiawatha
And his wings eclipse the Heavens
And his winds are like a bellows
Blowing life and death before him
See him sweep the clouds of midges
From the forest to the mountain
From the mountain to the ocean
From one ocean to another
New and shining Big Sea Water
