-- Google Analytics START --> <-- Google Analytics END -->
notes from a small vicar
from a parish
in Liverpool, UK
Tuesday, December 02, 2003Why Some Men Cannot Remember The Colour of Eyes
Their wives see them staring at the trees,
rivers, small sections of the garden, even sheds.
This is because the stars reside there, the beginnings of days,
the immense moments in the lives of insects, Leonardo
assembling a kite in his mind.
Of course they work to conceal this, hiding behind agendas
and computers and sports results and men's magazines
and big boy stuff, the serious equipment and the technical.
They can see beyond the colour of eyes mosaics of minds
that surpass words and even memory itself. The miracle
of life can be encountered in a card game, on the lake's surface,
In the second bottle of wine, in the recollection of the tree house
in a garden that no longer exists. Thus bikes and cars and constantly
purchasing the same shirt, thus that moment before the new
joke is told, thus terrible ties and bird's eggs and staring through
the immediate as if their dead fathers had just called to them.
D.H.W. Grubb, Runner-Up, Cardiff International Poetry Competition 2003, from New Welsh Review, Winter 2003