on the windowsill
the little Buddah
I bought in Portobello Road
fifty years ago
when I first learnt to meditate
fifty years on
and I finally got it
a thousand YouTube gurus
have their say
he says nothing
and that is all I need today
Author: Edwin Best
Author of the poetry blog 'Another Way of Saying.'
I tend to write short lyric pieces, although I do also write longer sequence poems.
I cannot stay serious for long however before the absurd, the darkly comic and the fantastic come into play.
My first collection 'Another Way of Saying' is available in paperback from Amazon, published by FeedARead, 2014.
all on a summer’s day
I placed my feet in water
that sprang from sacred ground
the stones like silent counsellors
my wife and child stood round
some part of me I left there
it being so hot that day
the things that we remember
as memory falls away
a life as soft as water
a pillow where I lay
a pool along the wayside
all on a summer’s day
in time of cloud
of [or pertaining to]
Spring
these quick awakenings
no longer beset by passion
once pursued
care unallowed
now sensing the sun overhead
in time of cloud
all is renewed
always
like someone
throwing the curtains open
on a glorious summer day
it has always been this way
[first posted December 2014]
letter to none
I never wrote to you –
perhaps I should
love ties rope round
and then it pulls
leaves us stretching
like a kid under a tree
for one bright apple
nobody sees
I don’t like apples –
never did
don’t eat fruit much
and won’t until
sweet berries lean
towards my door
and that will happen
to me no more
[first posted 22 November 2014]
failure to thrive
I found a flat grey stone on the beach
with scratch marks
scored deeply on one side
it reminded me of something I couldn’t account for
so I placed it in the yard
with other things I don’t care about
and thought no more of it
when I saw it again
the lines seemed more pronounced
(it may have been the light)
but it no longer reminded me of anything
other than how a young child starved of love
will fail to thrive
next day
I returned it to the beach
a three-legged dog followed me home
but I don’t want him
crumbs 2
when the pheasant hit the window
we were eating cake
lemon crumbs on our lips
I could have kissed you
but didn’t
[first posted 23 May 2015]
line breaks
I awoke unable to remember
how or why we write poems
or make these line breaks
alerting us to another way
of reading and seeing
now I remember
meanwhile
rainwater collecting in buckets
shone like something holy
[first posted 17 Jan 2015]
cave drawings
this morning I sharpened my pencil
in expectation of words
little boats came instead
while antelope gathered
upon a white hill
to stare – cave drawings
from I don’t know where
I would rather have had words
[first posted 31 May 2015]
say a little prayer
perhaps I should genuflect
light a candle
mumble something holy
but when the night terrors come
to this private vault
we call consciousness
only my dog can hear me
be near me
comfort this old skin
so I say a little prayer for him
and whisper I’m ok
[first posted Jan 8, 2016]
