Wires, not gut
(c) Sabine Chaouche - Los Angeles 2009
Take a plectrum
........ to the sky
and prick out
........ lyre-songs
that wring
....... from the cloudedness
the tears
....... it is so
earnest
........ with concealing
(c) Steven Matthews
May 2012.
........ to the sky
and prick out
........ lyre-songs
that wring
....... from the cloudedness
the tears
....... it is so
earnest
........ with concealing
(c) Steven Matthews
May 2012.
Tanto…tanto
(c) Sabine Chaouche - Oxford 2009
“It’s because I’ve lived so much that I want to live so much more”
(Pablo Neruda)
It’s some sepiaed Spanish
country of the mind
(so much, and too much):
so much the bask of light,
as the cloud-haze clears
from the slopes of El Cielo,
and the sun frees upon
the bodice-fans of thick leaves
cicadas, to their squall
of chatter, fandangos
that survive the habits
of inevitable song.
(c) Steven Matthews.
May 2012.
(Pablo Neruda)
It’s some sepiaed Spanish
country of the mind
(so much, and too much):
so much the bask of light,
as the cloud-haze clears
from the slopes of El Cielo,
and the sun frees upon
the bodice-fans of thick leaves
cicadas, to their squall
of chatter, fandangos
that survive the habits
of inevitable song.
(c) Steven Matthews.
May 2012.
Erato
(c) Sabine Chaouche - New York 2009
She comes to this spot each afternoon in
summer, sets her stool on the stamped soil path,
and checks the tuning of her guitar.
Passers-by soon group in anticipation,
bored parents pause pushchairs, and rest on them.
A few chords, but still the song does not begin.
She gazes beyond, toward the shimmer
in sunlight at the end of the path,
..........................................toward
where the words might come from,
.............................................distant from her,
yet words for the lovelornness that might well
from her, drawing the tune and the beauty
that re-cast the demarcations of the day.
(c) Steven Matthews
May 2012.
summer, sets her stool on the stamped soil path,
and checks the tuning of her guitar.
Passers-by soon group in anticipation,
bored parents pause pushchairs, and rest on them.
A few chords, but still the song does not begin.
She gazes beyond, toward the shimmer
in sunlight at the end of the path,
..........................................toward
where the words might come from,
.............................................distant from her,
yet words for the lovelornness that might well
from her, drawing the tune and the beauty
that re-cast the demarcations of the day.
(c) Steven Matthews
May 2012.
Turn and turn again
(c) Sabine Chaouche -- Cours les Barres 2011
Upset at being made
.......................to think of these
as crooked, silhouetted
skeletons’ fingers pleading
....................into a blank sky
I am waiting
for the nubs of the buds
to split, for
their leaves and red blossom
......................to flame out
(c) Steven Matthews
May 2012.
.......................to think of these
as crooked, silhouetted
skeletons’ fingers pleading
....................into a blank sky
I am waiting
for the nubs of the buds
to split, for
their leaves and red blossom
......................to flame out
(c) Steven Matthews
May 2012.
The Earth Turned Upside Down
(c) Sabine Chaouche - Oxford 2009
Where from, where to?
Crazed contrails in the snow,
and some firm god
trampling the heavens
in vengeance.
Phaeton’s chariot-marks, maybe,
once the restless horse-team
had gone out of control
and the wheels slewed
all over -
time itself become confused,
the dark of day, light of night,
through both of which
careered
the pursuing Jove,
frantic to enforce order
before the whole globe
went up
.............in flames.
(c) Steven Matthews
May 2012.
Crazed contrails in the snow,
and some firm god
trampling the heavens
in vengeance.
Phaeton’s chariot-marks, maybe,
once the restless horse-team
had gone out of control
and the wheels slewed
all over -
time itself become confused,
the dark of day, light of night,
through both of which
careered
the pursuing Jove,
frantic to enforce order
before the whole globe
went up
.............in flames.
(c) Steven Matthews
May 2012.
Transmitter
This cell has switched
........................cancerous,
exfoliating in its darkness,
expanding its reach
and about to break out,
.........................take over,
transmit its agony
......................from the beauty
of its flourish
(c) Steven Matthews.
May 2012.
........................cancerous,
exfoliating in its darkness,
expanding its reach
and about to break out,
.........................take over,
transmit its agony
......................from the beauty
of its flourish
(c) Steven Matthews.
May 2012.
(c) Sabine Chaouche - Oxford 2012
Nota Bene:
The images or poems relating to this exhibition must not be reproduced without theauthors' permission.
Les images ou poèmes relatifs à l'exposition virtuelle ne doivent pas être reproduits sans l'autorisation de leur auteur.
The images or poems relating to this exhibition must not be reproduced without theauthors' permission.
Les images ou poèmes relatifs à l'exposition virtuelle ne doivent pas être reproduits sans l'autorisation de leur auteur.
