SBT Issue 43

Poetry Corner
EARLY DOORS
This was when to catch him in good spirits
before the mid-evening rush and jostle,
before the calling for another bottle,
another pint, with hardly time to fill it.
Now he had the time to pass the time of day.
While the unwatched clock cut him some slack
he smoked, talked and joked as he topped up black
patient porter. Liffey water, some would say.
Don knew better, ignored their ignorance
of the Wicklow mountain source. What is true
doesn’t always go down well. Circumstance
dictates that knowledge benefits the few.
He set his clock – ten minutes ahead. Dead
on eleven he’d call time. Enough said.
Introducing Michael Woods
Michael Woods has two
poetry collections published
by Templar Poetry:
Absence Notes and
Algebra. His next, Opening
Time, will be launched in
September 2018 at The
Lamb and Flag in
Worcester and uses the
sonnet form throughout.
Three of these appear
here.
Books available here: www.michaeljwoods.me.uk
Instagram: michaelwoods_poet
CELLAR
All is ordered, ship-shape and clinical
down here – smacks something of Guernsey’s German
underground hospital. We’re learning an
unexpected lesson. Rabbinical,
Garry shows us how to reach the pinnacle
of cellar care, knows when to turn on taps
that mix the gas, can tell with just a slap
how much is in a barrel: finical.
Draymen drop depth-charge beer kegs through the hatch;
they hit the crash mat with a dead-weight thud
but don’t explode. Imagination’s match
is lit - this vault blows up and starts to flood,
becomes the Kursk with no-one left alive;
all this stricken sub can do is dive, dive, dive.
SEISIÚN – I
Ollie Roche is in his early seat,
session leader every Monday night.
Settled on the green bench-end he sips a pint
of bitter, anticipates the craic - the beat
and banter of the lads, who now he greets
as they arrive, tune up, sit in, on song:
Mark, Ally, Helen, Rupert, Beth and John.
Suddenly, the unspoken makes complete
sense as conversation turns to music -
magically, magisterially
in the alembic of charged air. The ludic
night plays on, out – immaterially
able through what’s transmuted and past change
to sing its own condition, find its range.
OPTICS
On my left, Adrian, salmon bandit
and bookies’ favourite. On my right, Steve -
red-braced (Bunter), belted FTSE pundit:
both about to do what no one would believe.
In those days Don sold Packet Ploughman’s Lunch,
a snack of crackers, silverskins and cheese.
Well, Adrian often bought a stack of these
to share with Steve, and that day said to him mid-munch:
Will you have a Powers with me? Gravitation
was defied by optics. Two bottles later, unbroken,
in words that signalled faith in levitation,
Newton’s laws reduced there to mere token,
straight-faced, drunk, Adrian turned to drink Steve’s
health:
Would you like to join me? The top shelf?
Win This Fantastic Title
This unusual and beautiful book collects
together twenty five of the often read, wellloved
poets. Each poet is illustrated with an
original watercolor portrait by the talented
young artist, Charlotte Zeepvat, who
reproduces in pleasing script one of their
works, giving a biographical summary that
placed the poet firmly in the battlefield
context in which their work was conceived.
To have a chance at winning this
fabulous book, simply email your
poetry to:
jane@sandbagtimes.com
www.sandbagtimes.co.uk 31 |