Preface
This small book comprises poems spanning several generations from the early 1960s until this day (2013). It contains juvenilia as well as more mature works. They tell of hope, love, aspirations and of frustrations and disappointments, of distractions and despair. They are part of the personal story of the author, nothing more.
Copyright Harold Moore 2013
I should have gone to Prague at twenty-three.
I should have gone to Prague at twenty-three.
I should have made an effort to be free.
Of all those trappings of suburban life
That drew and beckoned me to take a wife
And sink in urban paradise
I saw my student friends go on one by one
Until they all completely now were gone.
To chase ideals, I said I'd follow
But my words I knew rang hollow
And fell on saddened doubting eyes.
Instead, life took me in complacency
Through doors and corridors that were not me.
Those socialistic idealistic dreams
Were nothing but scholastic schemes
Of searching youth beguiled by lies.
Or so I liked to say, explain away
Why I'd let life and wife take me away
For were those lies that filled my eyes
Or was it truth borne in disguise
Of words corrupted in the speech.
Although regrets I cannot hide
Eventually I found the truth beside
The River Rhine and by the DOM
Left standing by the bomb
I met a boy from Prague.
I asked him how and why, what he would be
"Why nothing else but to be free"
Is what he replied, but not to me
He said it to my wife and she
Replied "It’s you who are free, not we"
The truth hurts.
The look upon your face betrayed
Your thoughts. While I kept silent
Fearing your first words, although
I knew you had to utter soon
Those words that fell like
Ashes on my splintered brain.
The snare
I saw your first stumble
I watched whilst you fell
I cried while you crawled
The slippery wall
Of the bottomless lightless well
Prefix
And sometimes when the steps are out of tune
Stumbling to the door I held before
Wonder if the lamps hold any secret
Of the many lies that greet your eyes.
The bus journey
My song is love unknown
of my sincerity,
which with the wind has grown
into simplicity.
But if unheard
I whisper up above
and like a dove
descend upon the earth
where whistling grass enrobes
my flowing verse, nursed by the stream of luring water’s dream.
I strum a harp of gold
To very gull I see
And sing a song untold
From hill and vale and tree.
But if in vain,
I crawl the lowest bed
Of mud banked river dead
To catch my lover’s breath,
That sighs from highest hill and cries from ocean’s depth
I know, that angel’s breath
I’ll share eternally.
Like gentle waters flow
Down sloping mountains free
And pink carnations grow
Upon the pool’s green lee
When geese descend
Upon the lake in flocks
Fluttering their snow white frocks
Across the paling sky
That shadows rustling leaves
And hides the swaying tree
So shall my heart respire
As it desires
With thee.
I have not a penny
I have not a penny to buy you a rose
Or bring you a wine from the riverside vine
I only have teardrops to show in my eyes
And laughter to cheer you whenever you cry.
A song I can sing you when you’re feeling sad
A bluebell to bring you when you break my heart
I only can give you whatever I have
And all I can give you, I give you my heart.
Looking out of the factory window
Sometimes when I look out of the window
And see the houses, backyards, bricks of red
Nothing seems important except you.
But other times,
Especially when I’m not alone
And people flock around and mother me,
My head is filled with families and friends
Commitments that I know I cannot keep
And all I long for
All I scream for
Is that those thoughts should leave my head
And leave me to the backyards, bricks of red.
Guilt
Blossoms shine upon my cheek.
Dance the stairs and trip the floor
Flowing to the backward door.
Shame upon me son of mine.
Mints of jasmine in my hair
As I dance the wayward stair.
Past comfort by a mile
Past comfort by a mile and see
The shadow on your shoulder.
Past caring till the dawn of grey
No longer haunts your morning dream.
Discard the buds of tenderness
And stem the mellifluous flow
And try to think just what you’ve done
For now you can
Without a lens
Just gaze upon
Reality.
In and out
In and out
From and to
Going down the stairs.
Shoes that squeek,
Stairs that creak,
Give the game away.
In a shelter
By a kiosk
Peering through the dark.
On the front
Down the back
Chills the heart away.
I can see
They don’t know.
I watch their mistakes.
When they hide,
All their pride
Has been given away.
Morning never sees your face
Morning never sees your face in silence.
You may shout your last word to the night,
Tale your clarion to its fall
From the mind into the day.
Let your best friend see the
Meaning of these words
That he may know
In the night
You died
Dead
A tree is not a flower.
A tree is not a flower till the green
Has shaded every crispy crackled stem.
A love is not a marriage until when
The love once given has been given again.
I am there if you want me
The light was still, the night was gone.
I started and arose.
Rushing down the slope I leapt
Upon the early train.
She was there and with a smile
Came and sat beside me.
I told her;
Eyes like meadows in the sun,
Lips a breath of incense in the dew,
Hair as night, a velvet cape
Cast
Upon your shoulders.
We clasped and laughed
And loved this day.
Now we were as one.
The light stood still, the night had gone
Rushing down the slope I leapt:
The early train had gone.
Humility
Many times an hour has passed
Above my door and never seen
What has been
My inspiration for many years.
I see a man begin to fly
And now a cellar humbles me
To dream
Small fragile things I have not held
Nor tempted me.
A rainy night with blustering wind
Rattle door and damp on window
Came a singer
Naked as night.
Upon her breasts she wore a leaf
And flowers studded on her cheek.
I tried to flee.
She followed me.
Around my room a song she threw.
I tried to flee
no shadow cast
so I knew
I need not flee but re-awake
but as I woke she multiplied
until the ceiling shook with song
and I collapsed, a heap
and laughed, not mirth
but laughter of
a sleepers wake.
Rise and crestfallen
Lasting though the silence may be
the misuse of the steel inflames
the mystery of its arts
until the drummer beats the beat
that passes with the heart.
Silent though the streets may be
the silence splinters soon
and knotted hands release the loom
to clasp a smaller wooden frame
and thrust it to the screeching sky.
Silent mouths expectantly
Untrousered knees begin to flee
and drive the surging vengeanfull brood
to steaming wheels and paper boats that travel through the sultry night.
Above the tiles the humming birds
caress the shifting clouds, and all that was has gone before and vanished out of sight.
Small silence broke now breaks again
and all that stirs is scurried by
and shuttered out of sight.
The quiet routine of the day
is only shattered by the gloom
that brings the moon to disappear
while other lunacy appears
to hide the sky in droning moans.
Soft scattering of the humming bird
And beds lie empty.
Many men are mourning now
and many women wailing.
Lost the man-child of their fears.
Lost the emblem of their tears.
They their voice of silence begged
as the voice had beckoned them
suddenly to stop the world.
But the voice now fallen, spent
from its nest down in the south
stumbled to the watchful gate
and put a bullet in its mouth.
Finale
Something made me find you
Yet it seems
A failure if I leave you
To the pack to guard alone
The den that we had built.
If I could substitute another me
Another friend, I would not sleep
Not even then
For conscience would
Not be a friend to me.
I lie alone.
My thoughts, like wine, are spilt and spent.
My heart, like pulp, is wrent and worn.
I am not good
But no man is
And in the street
With other men, I am at one
And unashamed
Can boast with them.
At night I find
The peace I thought
Would bring me you
Has shattered all
My alleluias.
If I scream
I fear the light
Would break my world
And leave me nothing
But your like mind
To call away,
And if I pray
I fear the sky
Descend
Upon my pagan head.
Summer deeds hail they that fled
From summer magic through our door
To take our drink and dine
And take our love.
I only try and try alone
for now I know I am alone.
My dreams, my pains, are not for you.
I cannot share, except with me.
We run, we climb, we think alike.
There is a lot
But every day
I see the signs that guide my thoughts.
I see them vanish one by one
Until I find
I cannot stray.
I have lost a lot
Of time, of love, a lot of God
Now life is blank
No end, no fall.
I am not brave, there is something
That brought me here
And makes me stay.
I wonder
I wonder if you wonder
How I felt about you on that day.
We walked for miles
And talked for hours
And jumped the puddles in the lane.
You came across serenely
Like the photographs I took;
Though smiling rather shyly
Like the images I keep.
Oh girl! You are a precious thing.
It’s painful loving you.
But I want you, yes I do.
I do.
If only we had met before
If only we had met before,
another time, another place.
If only mesmerised by you
Your charms, your ways, your happy smile
I would not want another way;
nor dread the dawning of the day
without you.
A young girl coming out of hospital after chemotherapy
Can I see life beyond the sun
where shadows have not yet begun
to cast autumnal thoughts
upon the hopes I hope are real
and feelings that are not yet surreal
betrayals of doomed destiny.
The light that once had gone from me
has settled in uncertainty.
and comes to me again.
I have few fears. I’m only young
I know that Spring has sprung
and hope returns again.
The sun is shining, Wagtails hop
across the searching budding crop
and optimism blooms.
Can I resume my world again
dispensing memory and pain
that beckon me
I will be free.
I will be free,
again.
Falling on this glassy place
Falling on this glassy place
from fields of fire in distant space
Little child in innocence
breathing in the air cadenced
Humanity’s incense.
Peaceful waters turn the sky
upon itself; the mirror flies
to showers of deathly dust
reflecting souls lie crushed
unearthly hush.
Quiet singing in the breeze
Of lifting leaves and stirring trees
while she floats and like Shalot
in solitude accepts the plot.
An evening’s sunset at the children’s hospice
Tom was a shadow in the evening sun
when I saw him lying there.
His lips were bare
of heavenly love.
He could not see
He could not hear
but he
was there for me.
We sat around him and watched him go
away from twilight’s door.
into the sun
and way beyond.
He ran around, a year ago
He was a boy
and lived like any boy.
From mother down to mum it came
and never went away
until his head confused and tired
gave up.
The leaves fell down.
The leaves fell down
upon the street below
The words came together
as I arrived that day
You were there
in my mind.
You were there
you were there every day
I knew these feelings would reach to you
I knew they would come to you
wherever you are.
The trees were bare
I rushed back to the office when the trees were bare.
You were there, by the Square and the Green
You had to go to see a friend and in the end
By the fountain of cream
I knew the end was there by the Square and the Green.
The Archbishop’s dilemma
I read the book and saw the page
My head was filled with glowing rage
To think I’d opened up my heart
To see a secular upstart
Split molecules of mind
Where I had been so kind.
The light was gone away from me
From purpose to insanity
Yet over and away the thought
Trouble that I knew I’d bought
By my stupidity
And my naivety.
I oversee diversity
With diocesan brevity
Yet over and above the world
The song is loudly un-uttered
Though it will be in time
A tune no longer mine.
Upon publication of the official biography of Dr Runcie - 1996
With Georgina in the Summerhouse
The moon was new but I never knew
The clock had lost its face
“We’ll do the deal in a day or two”
But the sun was never raised.
Interminably long the stress became
My source of staying alive
Intoxication took the blame
Though morning was a crime.
Early morning, early night I came
And went and came back again
Until the deal could be concluded
Yet all the time
The only place I wanted to be