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Sophia Brookes Poems
Poet’s recipe
Don’t beat love’s language to a pulp:
gently fold in words
keep the precious air.
Add self-raising dreams,
and life’s zest.
Sprinkle with experience.
Hush with honey, shock with salt.
Crystallise desire,
make Julienne strip.
Let freshly grated commas fall
into the mix.
Heat in the centre of your heart.
Pour a drink, let the draft chill.
Store in a drawer
one month before editing.
Slice into stanzas.
Serve in private
on a thick and creamy page.
My father drank Pernod
Whenever you got the chance
and it wasn’t often;
you’d reminisce about France:
where your story began.
The cloudy drink at your side
rekindled Old Versailles;
a potent Baedeker guide
I was greedy to try.
I thought you’d overstated
the glamour of those days
when I in turn was fated
one half-term to retrace
your steps, in a coach party.
Déjà vu: already seen.
Every grotto, lake and tree
was snapshot in my genes.
Your ghost accompanied me
that day at the Chateau.
In mirrors you seemed happy
reflecting long ago.
New girl
Whatever happened to the new girl?
Sloe-eyed, in the dorm, reading
Farsi, buttoned up to her chin
in rose-sprigged winceyette.
We called her Susan -
easier to pronounce.
Father was an engineer.
Mother lived in a gilt frame.
Passport, Heathrow,
I have one brother.
No, she didn’t say much.
But she cried most nights.
As you do aged eleven
touching your bracelet
so far from Teheran.
Whatever happened to the new girl?
niceirma |
Latest page update: made by niceirma
, Jun 26 2009, 10:15 AM EDT
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Keyword tags:
Hertfordshire
Herts
Letchworth
poems
poetry
The Settlement
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| Started By | Thread Subject | Replies | Last Post | ||
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| Dickpoet | Sophia | 1 | Jun 29 2009, 10:38 AM EDT by DCTacitus | ||
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Thread started: Jun 27 2009, 12:59 PM EDT
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I like this set of poems. They are well crafted and thought-provoking. Whatever happened to the new girl? What, indeed?
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