The musician speaks of the Pacific
We are the something of sirens
this, our urgent-sound:
laughter deepening an acreage
of littered whisperings; eyelash sea-greens.
Steady me. In this breeze, moments come free.
Place your hands on my shoulders
and I’ll whistle the breeze about your ears,
that’s also free.
My companion. My don’t know you, yesterday.
My knew you not, tomorrow. My deep of calendars,
drawn at the net’s mouth, hauled over the industry of turtles,
creased at the neck by so many days, folded into boxes,
that shine in the sun with the shell drum open;
I am become the music of Galapagos.
Startle me. By showing me mankind,
adrift in cars; their latherings of ‘I must have’, scraping the beaches.
*Poem by Helen Pletts whose two collections, Bottle bank and For the chiding dove, are both published by YWO/Legend Press (supported by The Arts Council) and available on Amazon. ‘Bottle bank’ was longlisted for The Bridport Poetry Prize 2006, under Helen’s maiden name of Bannister. You are welcome to visit www.stem-of-quietly-disarrayed-fertility.com.
*Image by Romit Berger who says “I am a graphic designer. I met my very dear friend, Helen Pletts, in Prague, several years ago. Helen’s inspiration has led my graphic design career into that magical realm which combines illustration and poetry, and our creative wings continue to connect our souls through time and distance.”