Poems by Gordon Scapens

 

MORE THAN A SILENCE

The night is so quiet
I can hear yesterday
reducing to a full stop.

I can hear a door
closing on the time
of raw nerves.

I can hear the wrong speech
bleeding excuses to nobody
about losing the way.

I can hear tomorrow
searching for its conscience
and collecting up confusion.

I can hear my heart
trying to live my life
and wondering what for.

I can hear you
making yourself an offer
and refusing it.

I can hear the room breathe,
standing over me, poised
like a raised stick.

 

KINGFISHER

A colourful fantasy
flung between river banks
splashing a drab, cold day.

It wedges its ego
through excited heartbeats
of this astonished walker,
seeming to ask if I know
how to be me.

I feel that the flight
is a zip opening my mind
to reveal an old hunger
for yesterday’s carefree ways.

I get a feeling of sadness,
perhaps never to lose
about my bygone times.

I feel I’m chasing
something I can’t reach
witnessing this event,
where a door has opened
that never existed before,
and may now close forever.

The scene has a message
saying it’s not what you look at
but what you see.

 

NAVIGATING INACTION

Following his instinct,
encouraged by the sun
with a flaming farewell,
the butterfly travels
playgrounds of water islands
on the patio table.

Keen to keep this last warmth,
he chases his reflection
in liquid mirrors
and drinks his needs
to sustain until morning.

The last starling
measuring fading light,
swoops a last chance,
the butterfly flaps uselessly
while he’s carried away.

The S.O.S. of those wings
later beat a tattoo
on the taut skin
of a night disturbed
as I rerun the incident
over in my head,
questions chasing answers
and dreams of prevention.

I’ll wager I’m not alone
in making a religion
out of helplessness.