Candice et al - apropos of Rilke, who has always had a mystery to him for
me, mixed with a childhood of angels and devils, I post a couple of old
angel poems from my Mother Waits for Father Late collection. Contrasting
moods ... The Charlie referred to is my youngest son, now playing cricket
in England, and about to play against a Malaysian national side - so his
size has changed since he was that little boy waking us at dawn for his
breakfast (which was 11 Weet-bix, by the way).
The person addressed in the second poem is my ex-wife. Enough said really.
Since childhood I've thrown the devils away, but kept the angels.
Andrew
Angels For Charlie
Angels are in you
wings open
to embrace the start of day
Angels lift bones
from your bag
of dreams
interconnecting
all working parts
and walk you
to breakfast half awake-
who else pours
the milk? spreads
the jam ?
Toppled Angels
Mammal fear threw
my angels out
Now each new anxiety
kills another
article of faith
You stayed
through years of
blackouts and speed
angels on
hope
Who sent you here-
my creator, your creator?
Today
my tongues bleed
in the death hour before dawn
I sit in our kitchen and
shiver
in my dressing gown
Love and lust
unglued
veins dry as old vines
Who will take you away-
my destroyer, your creator?
One night unhinged
I sat on a hospital bed
1 a.m. in fright
as death masks of
my living loves
paraded towards me
decomposing as they came
My mind is torn
by its own pain
Who brought me here-
my creator, your destroyer?
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Andrew Burke Copywriting
[log in to unmask] Creative Writing
http://www.bam.com.au/andrew/ Editing
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