All Poems
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Camping in a kitchen
© Ivan Donn Carswell
To say weve done it all before is not to bend
the truth and though weve lost our youth
the vision of the bright contemporary kitchen
draws us on, sustaining us beyond our strength.
Bretton Wood
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It happened by Bretton Wood (although that
wasnt its real name) and I recall a clear, grey dawn
and the tall sky fallow with torpid clouds;
we went on before to watch how they sundered out
The Reply Of The Fountain
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
HOW deep within each human heart,
A thousand treasured feelings lie;
Things precious, delicate, apart,
Too sensitive for human eye.
Blame Katrina, or Larry
© Ivan Donn Carswell
You may have heard a dumb-ass claim that
Katrina, a hurricane, is to blame for current
stress upon our fiscal state, that petrol prices
ate their share but be aware of what the lack
of Cavendish bananas did when far too few
were found to satisfy the mad demand.
Whimper Of Sympathy
© George Meredith
Hawk or shrike has done this deed
Of downy feathers: rueful sight!
Sweet sentimentalist, invite
Your bosom's Power to intercede.
Bitter sweet
© Ivan Donn Carswell
The events
of September 11th
2001 remain bitter sweet;
as well as 2973 innocents
Beta Blogger Blues
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Have you switched to Beta yet?
Its an even bet that if you have
you quite regret your impulse
to accept the canny invitation.
Benefit of doubt
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Its a ruling from the field of pain (devoid of antique nave,
a judgement process aptly named benefit of doubt);
youve encountered it without veneer in waning times
where referees decline to rule on what is dreamed
where benefits per se are favoured the brave.
The Fiddler
© Lola Ridge
In a little Hungarian cafe
Men and women are drinking
Yellow wine in tall goblets.
Being old in the game
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It was a half-life that seemed like a genuine world
wielding hard symbolism over those who ruled it; we
lived vaguely in teen-easy ambivalence whilst our peers
took their chances in ordered existence, wearing
To A Picture Of Eleanor Duse
© Sara Teasdale
Was ever any face like this before
So light a veiling for the soul within,
So pure and yet so pitiful for sin?
They say the soul will pass the Heavy Door,
Before the arthritis set in
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Its Wednesday, September 6th and a birthday,
again, these things arrive tediously on time
with wry regularity and sadly, no sense
of providence or charity.
Love's Prayer
© John Hay
If Heaven would hear my prayer,
My dearest wish would be,
Thy sorrows not to share
But take them all on me;
If Heaven would hear my prayer.
At Feet Of Dogs
© Ivan Donn Carswell
At my feet the lapdogs of desire,
I wont greet their fawning, least not yet,
their foul breath would shrink a haemorroid,
perhaps Ill feed them oats with garlic
As much a part
© Ivan Donn Carswell
In a slow drawn focus the concrete
blocks that prop up my view of the sky
morph soft and easy like double
brie melting into a shirred close-up shot
To Napoleon
© John Clare
The heroes of the present and the past
Were puny, vague, and nothingness to thee:
Athritic Fingers Have To Last
© Ivan Donn Carswell
These painful, cold athritic fingers have to last
much longer yet, theyre all I have to keep the pages
on the screen prescribed with glowing words, my favoured antidote
to weak and skulking weariness; the cups of strong black coffee
The Tipler To His Bottle
© George Moses Horton
What hast thou ever done for me?
Defeated every good endeavor;
I never can through life agree
To place my confidence in thee,
Not ever, no, never!
Another barbeque tonight
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It rained throughout the night, a truly welcome sound
that eases sleep although we barely slept we were
distressed by other things. Today the kitchens centre ring,
the kitchen of Anitas dreams. Its had a long gestation,
