Satrurday Poems- The Guardian Review

 
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نشرةارسل: الجمعة ديسمبر 18, 2015 2:46 pm    موضوع الرسالة: Satrurday Poems- The Guardian Review رد مع اشارة الى الموضوع

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/nov/21/saturday-poem-talking-dead-neil-rollinson
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نشرةارسل: الثلاثاء ابريل 12, 2016 11:56 am    موضوع الرسالة: رد مع اشارة الى الموضوع

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/apr/09/my-hero-my-english-teacher-by-andrew-motion
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نشرةارسل: الخميس يونيو 02, 2016 3:59 pm    موضوع الرسالة: رد مع اشارة الى الموضوع



[u
]The Saturday poem: From the Garden, with the Mushroom
by Ian McMillan[/u]



What I recall is this; it was autumn,
And there had been an eclipse during which
I stood with my dad in the garden


And we watched as the street grew darker
Than it should have, than it ever did.
Now it was at least one day later

And my dad walked in with a mushroom
That had illustrated the lawn’s green canvas
Since the eclipse turned the sky’s tone
A dirty colour. He passed the mushroom over.
It felt like the skin of someone who lived
In a place where no light gleamed. Whatever

I write now, all these long years after
Can never describe the mushroom’s scent
As I held it to my nose: earth and water,

And freshness, beauty. I held it to my lips
And bit it, much to my dad’s horror.
It tasted like the stillness of a fading eclipse.

• From To Fold the Evening Star, New and Selected Poems by Ian McMillan (Carcanet, £9.99). To order a copy for £7.99 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call Guardian book service on 0330 333 6846.

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نشرةارسل: الجمعة سبتمبر 09, 2016 12:23 pm    موضوع الرسالة: رد مع اشارة الى الموضوع



h The Saturday poem: El Desdichado

by Katharine Towers


On failing to translate Nerval

Not that I had wished to meet the Widower
nor any man who calls himself the Unconsoled.
But there he was, stepping from the wreckage of his tower,
harp pressed against his dusty heart.

He’s dead, of course, but not beyond desiring
the flower that will comfort him,
a view of the sea where Posillipo leans down
and an arbour of roses to sit under.

Anyone can dream in the element of water.
We simply let its burly chords assuage us,
though few will trust its tunes for long.

And although he’ll never truly live –
not as he once lived in that other language –
I’ve heard the tearful music of his lyre.

• From The Remedies by Katharine Towers (Picador, £9.99). To order a copy for £8.19 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call Guardian book *service on 0330 333 6846.



https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/sep/03/saturday-poem-el-desdichado-by-katharine-towers


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نشرةارسل: الجمعة سبتمبر 23, 2016 1:58 pm    موضوع الرسالة: رد مع اشارة الى الموضوع





The Saturday poem: My father cannot stop

by Lavinia Greenlaw



When his mind perceives itself failing
like an engine questioning its parts
everything stops
and he sees what it will be like when everything stops.

The problem is that nothing stops.
Time does not remain
and terror prompts him to do what he can to be stopped.

And so he keeps setting out
– without keys or money or a plan –
casting himself upon the world, sure that it will come:
the divine hand that reaches down to switch off the engine,

the point of arrest, the rest.

• Lavinia Greenlaw’s film, ‘The Sea Is an Edge and an Ending’, is being screened at the Estuary festival, which opens today. estuaryfestival.com





https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/sep/17/saturday-poem-my-father-cannot-stop-by-lavinia-greenlaw
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نشرةارسل: الاربعاء نوفمبر 02, 2016 1:19 pm    موضوع الرسالة: رد مع اشارة الى الموضوع

The Saturday Poem: Turning
by Rebecca Watts

The Guardian Review, Saturday 29 October 2016




Now it’s autumn
and another year in which I could leave you
is a slowly sinking ship.

The air has developed edges
and I am preparing to let myself lie
in a curtained apartment,

safe in the knowledge that strangers
have ceased to gather and laugh
in the lane below

and the brazen meadow no longer
presumes to press its face to the window
like an inquisitor.

Soon even the river will evince a thicker skin,
my breath each morning will flower white,
and all of summer’s schemes will fly like cuckoos.

The leaves are turning and the trees
are shaking them off. Bonfire smoke
between us like a promise lingers.

• From The Met Office Advises Caution (Carcanet, £9.99). To order a copy for £8.19 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over £10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of £1.99.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/oct/29/saturday-poem-turning-rebecca-watts
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نشرةارسل: السبت فبراير 18, 2017 9:11 am    موضوع الرسالة: رد مع اشارة الى الموضوع




The Saturday poem: Tanager
by Billy Collins

Saturday 11 February 2017 11.00 GMT


If only I had not listened to the piece
on the morning radio about the former asylum
whose inmates were kept busy
at wooden benches in a workshop
making leather collars and wristbands
that would later be used to restrain them.
And if only that had not reminded me,
as I stood facing the bathroom mirror,
of the new state prison whose bricks had been set
by prisoners trucked in from the old prison,
how sweet and free of static my walk
would have been along the upland trail.


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Nothing to spoil the purity of the ascent –
the early sun, wafer-white,
breaking over the jagged crest of that ridge,
a bird with a bright-orange chest
flitting from branch to branch with its mate,
and a solitary coyote that stopped in its tracks
to regard me, then moved on.
Plus the cottonwood fluff snowing sideways
and after I stood still for a while,
the coyote appearing again in the distance
before vanishing in the scrub for good.
That’s the kind of walk it might have been.

• From The Rain in Portugal by Billy Collins (Picador £9.99). To order a copy for £8.49 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call Guardian book service on 0330 333 6846.


https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/feb/11/saturday-poem-tanager-by-billy-collins
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نشرةارسل: الاثنين فبراير 27, 2017 1:50 pm    موضوع الرسالة: رد مع اشارة الى الموضوع



[color=brown]The Saturday poem: One Night Comes Like a Blessing

by Grace Nichols



Saturday 25 February 2017 11.00 GMT


Like a cruel lover or spiteful mistress
No-Sleep demands my restless attentiveness.

No-Sleep prefers me stripped –
a dark projectionist

winding and unwinding the reel of my thoughts.
An old grained movie I can’t switch off –

a starring of loves and loss, TV footage,
soft tears, mortifications, smothered laughs.

Then, one night comes like a blessing.
A visitation of wings that sees me falling.




Whoever wants me now, I am swimming
towards my House of Dreams.

Let no one disturb this peace.
Let no one shake me

even from the branches of nightmares.
Come morning I am reborn again –

a fresh-faced Eve – emerging from the rib’s shadow –
ready to meet the daily pandemonium of living.

• From The Insomnia Poems by Grace Nichols (Bloodaxe £9.95). To order a copy for £8.46 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call Guardian book service on 0330 333 6846.




https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/feb/25/saturday-poem-one-night-comes-like-blessing-by-grace-nichols
[/color]
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نشرةارسل: الثلاثاء مارس 21, 2017 11:08 am    موضوع الرسالة: رد مع اشارة الى الموضوع

[u]The Saturday Poem

Saturday 18 March 2017

Bluegrass

by Richard Osmond

IM Earl Scruggs

He played the banjo like a whiskey distiller
slitting open a sack of grain:
swiftly, with a workman’s knack, spilling gold
in brilliant unquantifiable cascades.

In bluegrass we are moved
by no phrase in particular
but by the general principle
that small things in great number

behave as fluid.
He played the banjo
like a small boy in North Carolina
watching God move on the face of the cornfield.



https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/mar/18/saturday-poem-bluegrass-by-richard-osmond
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نشرةارسل: الاربعاء مايو 17, 2017 9:32 am    موضوع الرسالة: رد مع اشارة الى الموضوع

[align=left]The Saturday poem: Concerning loss and theft

by Henry Normal

The Gurdian Review, Saturday 13 May 2017


I’ve lost something valuable or had it stolen
So I’m forced to retrace my mundane actions
these tiny harbingers whose whispers
now mock with megaphones

The margin of error
I’ve recently allowed myself
widens from the gap at back of a settee
to the Grand Canyon

Re-assessing even the most casual of contact
my mistrust embitters charity
I’ve become Machiavelli dusting for prints
undermining all integrity in trial by memory

No matter whether it turns up
or not
I feel I’ve lost something valuable
or had it stolen



• Travelling Second Class Through Hope is published by Flapjack.
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https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/may/13/saturday-poem-concerning-loss-and-theft-henry-normal
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