Marey and the River -- by Zephirine

 

 

You cannot, so we are told, step twice into the same river:

the water will have flowed on past.  But you too

will not be the same person stepping.

In Marey’s image, change is happening

in the space between the man who jumps,

the man who has just jumped, the man who jumped

a moment ago, the man

in mid-jump

who used to be the man about to jump

and who will soon be

he who has jumped.

The man who jumps is not the same man who lands.

He will have added some heartbeats, shed some skin

he might have sneezed

or remembered that he had to be somewhere

post-jump

or decided, in mid-jump, to leave his wife.

The man who gets up from the bed turns and looks down

at himself, yes, but the self of a moment ago

still there, an instant ghost.

Chronophotographic images made by Étienne-Jules Marey (1830-1904) 

Storm -- by Mimitig

photo by James W Young from www.spaceweather.com

Summer

Bruised dark purple sky

Threatening violence

Flashes dark across the clouds

Lightning fuels bruises

Reel against the violence

Of the weather

Rain hurls itself

Against the window

No way out

Gutters weep, cry and echo

Inside
Blows and tears leave me weak
Crying for my past

 

The Meltonian Gene -- by Meltonian

Back in my Gloucestershire childhood,

the one thing that gave me a scare

was the two-headed lamb which stood

at the top of my granny’s stair.

It was in a plate-glass cabinet,

topped off by a castor-oil plant,

buffed like a dowager’s lorgnette

by my ancient four-armed aunt.

I gave it to the dustbin man,

but though it was totally sick,

my six-eyed uncle loved that lamb,

and granny’s eight legs were too quick.

So it stood in its usual place

with its dead eyes and its dandruff

and every time I hid my face

twelve fingers just weren’t enough.

.

About the Coypu -- by Zephirine

  

  

photo of Coypu (nutria) in Dortmund Zoo by Timo Sack

The Coypu is lacking in charm
it is like a large rat, but aquatic
it makes holes in the banks of a stream
and the damage it does is dramatic

The Coypu has bright orange teeth
a look which is seldom in fashion
and at times has been bred for its meat
which, though low-fat, does not inspire passion

You could wear Coypu fur as a cloak
if that is your idea of clothing
though you might risk a sudden attack
from protestors who’d view you with loathing

Coypu ravaged the Anglian Broads
till instructions came from the judiciary
and we're told the obstreperous hordes
were wiped out by the Min. Ag. and Fishery

with every assurance and platitude
that humanely their weapons were working...
but with orange incisors and attitude
the Coypu may somewhere be lurking

 

Mancestors -- by Meltonian

 'Passport to Pimlico'(1949)

Drinking until you fell flat on your face,
getting through sixty untipped fags a day,
stuffing yourself with bacon rolls and buns
regardless of what the doctor might say,
let alone the wife, whose appointed place
was to get your washing and ironing done,
cook a decent dinner and clear away.
You can see it might have been a lot of fun.

No washing-up or hanging the clothes out,
hoovering or mopping the kitchen floor,
talking to the kids or cooking the grub,
all that New Man stuff would be out the door.
No poncy foreplay or fiddling about,
a brisk embrace and then straight to the nub,
taking thirty-five seconds and no more,
then get your drawers on and down the pub.

Of course there were some serious downsides,
work, lawn-mowing, creosoting the shed,
an adherence to ancient traditions
which made experiment pretty well dead
so life experience was less than wide,
no art or culture or erudition,
no decent shampoo, and a limited
repertoire of sexual positions.

Personal hygiene was largely absent,
only tramps would have beards like that today,
and there’s no shortage of things to condemn,
like attitudes to women or being gay:
sometimes those chaps were rather unpleasant.
But they were taken prisoner by their time
like us, and finally one can only say
we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them.

'I'm All Right Jack' (1959)

 

About the Caracal -- by Zephirine

photo by Aaron Logan

The ear-tufts of the Caracal

may help it hear a mouse

communicate with friends

or hide better in tall grass

The Caracal will eat most things

though mammals are preferred

it can dine on a monkey

or perhaps snack on a bird

In London Zoo I met a Caracal

which would rather shyly join

its keeper in a game of football

but only if it was in the mood.

.

Sometimes -- by Mimitig

photo from wallpaperblog.wordpress.com

Sometimes at night I feel my heartbeat
Race
Like a butterfly
Wings beating fast inside

Sometimes at night I wake drowning
Mermaid tail thrashing
Going nowhere

Sometimes at night I wake crying
Tears drench my pillow
Why

Sometimes at night I dream of singing
Songs from past and present
Writhe round my mind and wake me
In the morning
Only shadows of the tunes
Remain

Sometimes at night people fill my mind
Dead and alive, they crowd me
Needing – something
What

Sometimes I wake
Heart beating like a butterfly
Wondering
When

Sometimes the morning sun
Rises in a sky painted glorious
Pink and red

Then I know
Why

.

Goldilocks the Floating Voter -- by Zephirine

"I hope she is dreaming of a progressive future.  Do you think my smile will frighten her when she wakes up?" said Gordon Bear.

"Eew, she looks quite common," said Dave Bear, "she will have to be looked after by volunteers."

"She should vote for me," said little Nick Bear, "because she is cute and so am I."

But Goldilocks slept on....

.

Illustration by Margaret Evans Price, 1927

No Caption Needed

.... but you can add one if you like...

photo: Zack Clothier/Rex Features

  

Heartsease -- by Mimitig

photo by Ekko

Who gives flowers these names?
A rose by any other name is still a rose.
Not so the humble pansy.
Some call it heartsease
Never thought at all why so
Til with the flowering
Of our pansies
I realized what heartsease means.
These flowers with their lovely faces
Ease the heart.
It’s that simple,
That’s why flowers that have no care
Have no feelings for us
Just smile in deep purple velvet
Outrageous bright yellow and
Sweetly gentle orange
Smile.
The garden starts to flourish
As the snow diminishes.
We have colour and we have life.
I can choose some posies for my room.
Daffodils in the green vase are fun,
But too late for St David’s Day.
I search the cupboard and the cabinet
For special pansy vase – from Myrthr Mawr.
Find it, pick the blooms, dead-head the rest –
They’ll bloom again.
I have my pansies, my heartsease and can be quiet again.

photographer unknown.