Please note that the poems and essays on this site are copyright and may not be reproduced without the author's permission.


Monday 22 January 2018

Not My GF: Three New Poems by Terence Winch (with special dispensation of St Anthony)

.
_MG_4131s | by krysolove

_MG_4131s: photo by Ilya Shtutsa, 7 November 2017

Do Not Seek the Treasure


On everything there is to eat, I add salt.

This is the fault of the food, I believe.


Of all things that are white, I most dislike snow.

I know it’s pretty but that’s no longer enough.


To fall asleep, I dream of basketball.

I am very tall in the dream. I slam dunk.


Once, long ago, I lived in perpetual fear.

But this year I shall crush my foes to crumbs.


I hate to bathe but I like being clean.

I mean what I say, but not literally.


I wish my sister didn’t live so far away.

The day is always brighter with her in it.


I long to pray, but I’m an atheist.

I exist to escort God to the exit.


I could spend all my time talking on the phone.

You groan when I come up on your caller i.d.


When I get cold, I just put on another shirt.

When I hurt, I take a pill and watch a movie.


I spend most of my time in the past.

It’s vast and entertaining, and I know how it ends.



Untitled | by metin.ekin

Untitled [Istanbul]: photo by Metin Ekin, 31 December 2016

Untitled | by metin.ekin

Untitled [Istanbul]: photo by Metin Ekin, 31 December 2016

Untitled | by metin.ekin

Untitled [Istanbul]: photo by Metin Ekin, 31 December 2016

Eat Me


First you carved off an arm and dipped

it in that gravy we always loved so much.

The one from our favorite restaurant

back when we would always go out

for a bite. You wiped your mouth

with your sleeve before sawing

off a leg. Yum yum, you said excitedly

as you chomped into it. I barely felt

anything, which was strange, if you

ask me. You were a mess. People

were bringing you hot towels

and Purell hand sanitizer so you

could wipe all the gook and gore

off your face and claws. I laughed

when you belched and farted.

It was only when you reached

into my open chest cavity and

yanked my heart out that I got

a little nervous. Damn, this looks

tasty, you said, smacking your lips.



Not My GF | by Md Enamul Kabir

Not My GF | by Md Enamul Kabir
Not My GF | by Md Enamul Kabir



Pablo Neruda said get up, row your boat,

seek consolation in sex and the earth.

His poems grew fat and happy, while

oblivion stalked him night and day.


Ashbery told us to take our hands off

the controls. Quote the voices in your

head. Work only at night, only in bed.

Do not believe a word he said.


Emily Dickinson will take you to her tomb—

I mean room—so you can see through

her in the pale moonlight. Only when you

get there, she has disappeared from view.


Marianne Moore says, see, look, there’s

unicorns and hard things, weasels and sweet

air from foreign climes. We say tell us, tell

us, please. Come down off your trapeze.


Ted Berrigan instructs us to wake up

before it’s too late. For what? At the party people

are smoking and drinking. It’s 10:27 pm, Saturday,

the city dazzling, intimate, and forever young.



When in Rome | by Guido Caltabiano www.guidocaltabiano.com

When in Rome: photo by Guido Caltabiano, 10 April 2017
with special dispensation of St Anthony

Big Bird | by Tavepong Pratoomwong

Big Bird [Brighton]: photo by TAVEPONG PRATOOMWONG, 18 January 2018

Big Bird | by Tavepong Pratoomwong

Big Bird [Brighton]: photo by TAVEPONG PRATOOMWONG, 18 January 2018

Big Bird | by Tavepong Pratoomwong

Big Bird [Brighton]: photo by TAVEPONG PRATOOMWONG, 18 January 2018

Two-year-old cat 'Onis' waits to be blessed by a priest in Spain on the day of Saint Anthony, patron saint of animals: image via Reuters Pictures @reuterpictures, 21 January 2018 

DSC06877 | by Chris Protopapas



Temptations of St Anthony by Salvador Dali (1946) #feastday: image via Joseph @joecam79, 16 January 2018

KERALA MAN & ELEPHANT 8121m | by opaxir

. | by Joanna Mrowka



Temptations of St Anthony by Michelangelo (his first known painting c. 1487) #feastday: image via Joseph @joecam79, 16 January 2018


 
Temptations of St Anthony by Hieronymus Bosch (circa 1500)  #feastday: image via Joseph @joecam79, 16 January 2018


 
Temptations of St Anthony by Master of the Osservanza Triptych (c. 1435) #feastday: image via Joseph @joecam79, 16 January 2018
 

 "It is certain that that which appeared was #gold. And Anthony marvelled at the quantity, but passed it by as though he were going over #fire; so he did not even turn, but hurried on at a #run to lose sight of the place." Life of #StAnthony #Athanasius: image via drunk_monk @drunk_monk, 17 January 2018
 

 "His soul was free from blemish, for it was neither contracted as if by #grief, nor relaxed by #pleasure, nor possessed by #laughter or dejection, for he was not troubled when he beheld the crowd, nor #overjoyed at being saluted by so many." Life of #StAnthony #Athanasius: image via drunk_monk @drunk_monk, 17 January 2018


 
 "For he had given such heed to what was #read that none of the things that were written fell from him to the #ground, but he remembered all, and afterwards his #memory served him for #book." Life of #StAnthony #Athanasius: image via drunk_monk @drunk_monk, 17 January 2018

5 comments:

TC said...

Dylan: Forever Young (live, Cardiff Arena, 2000)

tpw said...

Thanks for running these poems, Tom. Always good to wander Beyond the Pale. Good to see St. Anthony out and about as well.

TC said...

Dylan: Highlands (live, Worcester, 14 November 1999)

Dylan: My Back Pages (live, Toronto, 29 October 1998)

Dylan: Every Grain of Sand (live, Toronto, 29 October 1998)

TC said...

Our pleasure Terry. Everything here apart from your genius contribution was provoked by thoughts upon St Tony running past that ball of gold. Put me in mind of you naturally.

Sketch must come from his forever young tour. He looks totally 100% forever young, wuncha say? Or possibly blind? Certainly scared.

Running away from those balls of gold can get old pretty quick.

TC said...

Well, ok, maybe not scared.

Certainly radiating less generalized apprehension about the situation and possible outcome than for example the body language of those huddled January St Petersburg restaurant customers in the wonderful perfect-moment top shot by Ilya Shtutsa.

Maybe by that time balls of gold were already getting to look a bit passé?