The Jonny Trilogy. Part Two

Last Night

The King of Mill Road - by Souffle Washboard

The King of Mill Road – by Souffle Washboard

We didn’t go to the big tribute party in the pub,
We stayed behind
I didn’t feel like consoling those who’d just found out
Who were realising for the first time
That they’d never watch him drunk-boogie again
Who noticed his absence
Because Jonny wasn’t there anymore, to buy them another pint.

Like my gran-dad on hearing of the death
Of his friend in Finchley – Old Bootsy.
Finchley was country in them days
and Bootsy had a small orchard in his back yard.
Gran-dad sat down in his chair
Rolled himself an Old Holborn
And puffing away said
“Well! Bang goes me cooking apples”

We stayed behind
And went down to the Charmers Garden
We built a fire and sat in starlight
Nobody wept, uncontrollably, theatrically
We laughed, and groaned and rolled our eyes
And fell silent one by one.
In the silence Jonny gently sang Sea Song in my head.
But Jonny wasn’t there anymore, to see the wink of shooting stars.

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Jonny Marvel 1968 – 2018

Today I wrote this for Jonny.

Meerkat with Binoculars - 2018

Meerkat with Binoculars – 2018

Dammit Jonny…
Sitting in unbearable still, lamental and heartbroken,
I recall the sound of Jonny laughing,
The black sheep love child of Sid James…
And Mutley – QiQiQi!
Then I remember the broken legged meerkat
with binoculars left anonymously by my gate.

Dammit Jonny…

Searching for old photographs,
I come across a carrier bag
Of Jonny’s books, borrowed the other christmas
And I can’t bear to look at them for grief.
I turn away and drink more coffee.
Then I remember his jibe
about the coincidence of my menopause
and the break up of my marriage.

Dammit Jonny…

The only two photos of Jonny I can find
Were taken at my wedding picnic
Taken at the same time, consecutively even.
KT, Jonny, Marc Vaubert de Chantilly, Pat, Kat and Jesus.
Jonny’s looking overheated, chill in the July heat
A scarf, or sarong, or pashmina-thing,
He’d know what to call it,
Slung nonchalantly around his shoulders.
In the sunset gleam his skin shines like porcelain,
He looks fragile.

I wish I had a photo of him, ten years later,
Rotund and hale with ill-health, serenading
A whole drunken Strawberry Fair Benefit in The Dev,
With That Robert Wyatt song, acapella.
And I weep into the washing up.
Dammit Jonny…
I love you.

 

Liminal Phases at CB1 Cafe. Temporary Temple Promotions 2015

Up til now I have been lost for words at Jonny’s sudden death. Finally I have managed to write this poem. Jonny and I were not always on good terms in recent months. I felt wounded and raw when I heard of his death, and confused. I have been looking at Jonny’s Diary of a Foolish Man site, which Jill Eastland had set up in 2013. Jonny and I worked together on content for the website during 2015 and 2016. All we managed was to upload  photographs, and set up links to recordings, of his Awkward Instant performance with Justyna Latoch and Vapour at ReWorks Outer Music festival in 2012.

Check out the links below

Jonny’s website

Ady Panic’s poem

Liminal Phases

That Robert Wyatt song

Clutches of Love Online

A few weeks ago I posted up the Clutches of Love chapbook, including the wonderful introduction written for me by the inspiring psychedelic poet – Katya Lubarr. A few days later Katya emailed me asking me where the pieces were, the links didn’t work, she couldn’t find the pieces…I had a look and she was right.By Dave Challis March 2017

But  I was in the middle of National Poetry Writing Month, I was overwhelmed with rhyme and rhythm and iambic pentameters and dactylic feet, and worrying whether my sonnet was Shakespearean or Petarchan…the rigours of re-editing the blog-posting seemed beyond my grasp.

But that’s all over now, so finally, I have managed to make all the links work, so that the whole chapbook can be read online – here Clutches of Love

ENJOY!

 

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A Calling of The Circle: Part Three

A Calling of The Circle
Part Three

I call to you fading sunset
Join this circle of the turning year
Your soft blue light
dripping the western sky
Bringing cool mists
Blessed be the autumn time
Join this circle of the year
In the twilight’s full cup
I call to you in the West
Hail and welcome
At the equinox of autumn

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Day 13 – NaPoWriMo

A Calling of The Circle
Part Two

I call to you hot midday
Join this circle of the turning year
Your burnished red light
Climbing the Southern sky
Bringing blazing fire<
Blessed be the Midsummer
Join this circle of the year
In the fiery wand of midday
I call to you in the South
Hail and welcome
At the height of Summer

 

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Day 11 – NaPoWriMo

Today I have attempted to write in the Ode form – my inspiration was discovering that the local art museum in town has a piece of Grayson Perry pottery on loan. From that it’s a small step to the inevitable duff pun that gave me my title…

Ode On A Grayson Urn
I’m not big on museum pottery,
Not even if it’s done archaeologically,
Not Meisen shepherd, nor Stafford teapot,
Beaker people beakers inspire me not.
Yet today I felt my enthusiasm burn
While gazing at a Grayson Perry urn
Bulbous fat vase, rounded proud and brazen
Where flowers, faces, and colours are glazen
For among splotches and gilded lillies,
Grayson throws in pictures of big willies.

Clutches of Love

Day 10 of NaPoWriMo

Darling, When I think Of You

Salome
by Pierre et Gilles
Augmented photograph. 1991

Darling, when I think of you…
My skin tingles, hairs rise.
In my dry gummy mouth
I taste a metallic
Taint of terror.
In my mind
I see a red-flare distress beacon
Bloom glaring
In the empty dark sea night sky.
I hear klaxons ringing out
Harmonics of horror.
I smell the sweat of my own fear.
Darling, in truth,
I try not to think of you…
Too often.

 

 

Today I am posting up a poem from my new chapbook – Clutches of Love. I was lucky enough to have Katya Lubarr of the Cat Basket write the introduction, which I was very pleased with. We are hoping to collaborate on a similar chapbook anthology in time for Valetines Day 2019 and we’ll soon be putting a call out for contributions.

But, finally this chapbook of Clutches of Love is finished, and is available to buy print-on-demand from my Esoterranean Books store on Etsy, the chapbook is priced at £5.

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Day 9 – NaPoWriWee

NaPoWriWee

I don’t know if I will make it through NaPoWriMo. I have sorely struggled to write productively daily. At times I wondered why, in light of the fact that I have never called myself a poet and never showed much interest in poetry before, I set myself to write a poem a day for a month. I was maundering about the weather and housecleaning for a couple of days before I realised I needed a plan, a framework to get me through a month without feeling it was pointless. That’s when I decided to use the NaPoWriMo month to research and experiment with poetic forms. I wrote a haiku, then  I chose to make a cut-up of David Bowie lyrics into  a Shakespearean sonnet. I  re-examined earlier experiments with Beat poet Brion Gysin’s Permutation Poems, researched and attempted a Triolet, and I’m planning next week to find out about Kenning poems, a form used throughout the Dark Ages as a semi-sacred form – think Odin losing an eye, hanging on a tree for nine days and nights, in order to gain knowledge of the runes and achieve mastery over language.

So, on the bright side – I may not actually make it through NaPoWriMo, but I have made it through the first week. I’ve done a  NaPoWriWee, and I’m hoping to do another one soon.

Today’s poem is a Haiku, called April, like a reprise of the poem I wrote on the first day.

April
Daffodils clamour, high blue sky,
Yearning equinox,
In the promise of summer.

NaPoWriMo

 

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Day 7 NaPoWriMo

Bella Basura dot com

Yesterday I got a new domain name for my blog/website. I am very excited, I’m sure it will help my SEO profile. Even though I don’t know what that means.
I’m so inspired I wrote an haiku about it.

bella basura dot com
Please note my new domain name
Easy to recall
It’s bella basura dot com

The main reason I did it, apart from the fact that wordpress kept suggesting to me that I did it, was to remove intrusive pop-up ads. So here’s another poem I wrote about it.
This time it’s a triolet.

bella basura dot com
Go to bella basura dot com
For your bella basura needs
Like me! follow! links at bottom
Go to bella basura dot com
See where bella is coming from
Go to bella basura dot com
For all your bella basura needs

Please update your bookmark and send me a message in the comments to let me know.

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Day 6 – NaPoWriMo

Arthur Rimbeau

A Formal Excercise

Research is easy with the internet. When I decided write a poem for NaPoWriMo in the most difficult form I could find, google quickly threw me a TRIOLET. A form popular in the seventeenth century and derived from the form of traditional French folk songs. It is a form considered hard to do well, and prone to doggerel. Arthur Rimbeau was apparently fond of them, although as he only did them in French, so I don’t know how stilted they might be.

Although research is easy on the internet, particularly straight forward things like formal poetic conventions, it is also a minefield of confusions, lies and sheer bullshit.

After ploughing through myriad internet-borne variations of what a TRIOLET is, I cobbled together my own interpretation, a working formula for writing a TRIOLET. Unfortunately by this time my imagination and creativity had been worn thin, and I ended up writing a poem about writing a poem – YAWN!

Here is the definition of TRIOLET that I used in day 6 of NaPoWriMo.
TRIOLET – In it’s English form consists of eight lines of iambic tetrameters,
with a repetitive rhyme scheme   ABaAabAB
The first line being repeated in lines 4 and 7
The second line repeated in the eighth line.
The resultant poem is HERE

Credit – OK Google for the image of Arthur Rimbeau.

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