Belinda Graham --- Five Poems

   

Caligraphy In The Snow Belinda Graham is a bilingual poet/artist, who has a weakness for numbers and patterns. She considers all numbers equally fascinating, though there are patterns to prove that apparently all numbers have not got the same value. She is interested in the different perspectives of life, how differently we all see various things and how different numbers can be playing hide and seek in seemingly inconspicuous items. Awyren is Welsh for flying object.

She treasures her favourite sounds but also her silences. She keeps valuable snippets safely stowed away in a cardboard box, which will be worth a fortune in the future. In short: it will be worth its weight in gold. Or something much more precious.

The Green Pen

Black looks too official
Black looks
Like it’s doing my taxes
I need a green pen

I need a green pen
Before I start writing a poem
I need a green poem
I need a green pen
Before I write the word "go"

I want a green pen to write.
A happy, welcoming pen.
I need a green pen.

Blue looks too sad.
Like it's crying out ink.
Into a pool of tears.

No good enough
for a happy-to-go green poem.

Red looks to accusing.
Red says everything I write is wrong.
Red says - failure.
Red says - stop trying.

I need to get looking.
Looking for the perfect pen
A happy get ready-to-go pen
with green ink.

The World in a Cup of Tea

A small cup of tea
With a mystical taste
is nice
With a friend

Even when you are not
On a veranda
In Botswana
Gazing at giraffes

A small bun
(or even better: a large bun)
is nice

Life is much worse
in Botswana
The Last Drop Over The Moon
Where there aren’t
enough orphanages
To all those
orphaned by Aids

Lots have lots worse lives
Often I have
a lots worse life.

But just right now
Everything is all right.

Awyren

Maths for children:
5 Ants are more than 4 Elephants
Maths for grown-ups:
2966 Americans
are more than
20 000 Japanese
and 100 000 Iraqis

1 Elephant is more

Playing With Fate

Frozen Swan In Flight

Let’s assume - like a game -
It might be possible to create your own fate
Your own destiny
If the universe accept it
And if you have the right medium
Who gives you the right tasks
Randomly planting out flowers
At beaches
And hoping for a miracle
Finding lost brothers
By looking at white stones
With no inscriptions.
And the beach is completely empty
Quite ready to be written on

Creating a universe in the sand
That will be washed away
By the next tide.
No need to keep it.
That is just - playing with fate.

The Feathers

Frozen III
Sometimes

peace will have to give

people a chance ...

and let white wings

full of beautiful feathers

grow out

as people haplessly

stutter and stumble

towards infinity

the feathers.

they might be dove

they might be angel


but the white feathers

for peace lovers

are never for cowards.