weighed

 A poem for Armistice Day

 

Saturday: The waiting time

Saturday

 the waiting time 

No-one celebrates this day.
This is the waiting time,
the coin has been tossed
and beyond human intervention.
The faces of anxiety and jubilation
compete
as the spin continues
and the world turns
its daily course.

No-one celebrates this day.
This is the between day,
the Sabbath day of no existence
when nothing can be done
yet all is being done.
No-one celebrates this day.
Preparation day:
in a cloak of invisibility,
some form of eternity
is at work.

No-one celebrates this day.
Mourning day:
when tears abound
and the future,
suddenly unmapped,
lies broken in a dark tomb
with a sentry of stone.

No-one celebrates this day.

Valentine 2025

 

Valentine 2025

More moments have passed,

a travail of travel:

seconds, minutes

and hours,

in relentless haste

around the quadrangle of years.

Between chimes,

breaths and breathless

moments

initiate intimations

the touch and touchless

hovering of bees

seeking nectar.

The air trembles,

a kiss,

a liaison,

a sensuous affair,

night-sky silk

on unclothed skin.

 

A peace candle on Holocaust Rembrance day

Shadows in the darkness,

fading memories

waning

with the loss

of daylight

and the dying

of the undead.

Quietude in the noise

and the sobbing

cello

sounds

its lamentation.

A single candle

in the street

says nothing.

A candle

in every street

calls the world

to hope.

Keith Wallis 27th Jan 2025