Poetry Part One

As outlined in the first post on this blog, one of my main objectives when starting Kindred Spirit was to provide an outlet for budding poets to showcase their work. Indeed, throughout all four issues of the fanzine the inclusion of poetry remained an important aspect.

I have always been a firm believer that variety is the spice of life and I clearly recall making a concerted effort to include poems covering a wide range of topics when making my selections from the hundreds that were sent to me.

34+ years later I look forward to sharing some of the poetry all over again, so to start the ball rolling here are four poems, the latter two being very much of their time (1983-1984). There will be many more to follow over the coming months.

After Contemplating a Dulac Illustration

by John Tufail

Is it death I fear

or her attendants?

Gathered

not from one broken dream,

but from many.

Fragments.

Fragments, dislocated demons.

uneasily together.

It is her eyes

that drew me in.

Her beckoning arms

bid me enter.

Her pointing finger

bids me pass.

Only she

is at once personal

and universal.

Those others

staring,

unfocussed, uncaring

into some other universe.

Not my reality.

Not mine,

but there nevertheless.

I must pass by –

untouched?

The Walk Home

By Jill Pullen

The silvery,

sugar-coated tarmac

glistens

beneath a half eaten moon.

Like some fairy-tale scene,

that makes children squeal

with delight,

excitement

and twinges of fear.

A tiny

bedraggled black kitten

peeps out

from behind a graffiti-torn fence.

Glassy eyes shining,

like lovers reunited,

together,

for whenever

they need to feel needed.

Motionless hedgerows

hang lifelessly

in the misty blue

midnight blue air.

My footsteps slice,

like a ruby-coated knife,

past the sleeping,

who lie

oblivious to the night.

The Berlin Wall

by Neil Hay

Wall on one side, wall on the next

Wall made of blood, not of bricks

Cuts people in half, cuts them down,

They had no choice as they cut up the ground.

They were on one side at two, the other at three.

Is this the way we should live in the land of the free?

A dead body lies on barbed wire, blood on the wall,

What does this achieve? I’ll tell you, fuck all.

Pack of cards, see them fall

Watch them die on the Berlin Wall.

Choices made in the middle of the night,

Watch them fight for their rights.

You made them die, you were the cause,

Now it’s up to you to break down the wall.

You took them apart and broke their souls

Now watch them die as they try to climb the wall.

And now the bombs move into place,

To advance even more, the nuclear war race.

A nuclear battle field, Berlin will fall,

No tears, no survivors on both sides of the wall.

Quiet now, dormant as hell.

No-one lived in Berlin after it fell.

Streets are empty, no-one lives here,

No-one will for many years.

Berlin is dead, blown to bits,

The world watched on TV “The Berlin Blitz”.

Another Bomb in Belfast

by Neil Hay

Machine gun fire rattles on,

Another mother loses her son.

How many more deaths ‘til they realise

The longer it goes on

The more it multiplies?

Another bomb in Belfast,

Another kid is dead,

Another sniper’s bullet

Got him in the head.

Another shot from a sniper,

Every day it’s the same,

The people live in terror,

The people live in pain.

There’s a soldier in the middle,

He doesn’t know why he’s there;

The MP’s sent him over

In the middle of the last bomb scare.

Another bomb in Belfast

Another kid is dead.

Another street in ruins,

Everyone has fled.

Another bomb in Belfast

And it won’t be the last.

MPs refuse to discuss it

But the killing doesn’t pass.

Another baby’s died,

Her body is put to the ground.

There’s violence in the streets,

In the cities and in the towns.

Another bomb in Belfast,

Another kid is dead.

Another sniper’s bullet

Got him in the head.

Another bomb in Belfast,

Another car in flames,

Another charcoaled body,

A body without a name.

Another bomb in Belfast

And it won’t be the last

MPs refuse to discuss it

But the killing doesn’t pass –

On the streets of Belfast.

What is wrong with this world?

We’re killing the people we know,

We don’t give our children time to grow

We’re fighting an everlasting war,

What’s the reason? What’s it all for?

I now have a dedicated poetry blog call Jill Webb Words. If you would like to visit, the link is here: http://jillwebbwords.blogspot.com 

Kindred Spirit Fanzine    Jill Webb Words