Charles Fisher

Charles Fisher Poems

Here is my hand to keep
My heart not yet
Take it, and do not weep
That I have met
...

Lovers lying side by side
Feel the flowing of a tide
Deeper than an earthly one
Swifter and more magical
...

Bewildered by metamorphosis, the prince
Tried his new limbs and wept, discerning too late
Her scorn for one so easily released
From spells (that kiss, you gather, was not the first).
...

The cloak of words, the wand
Held now in this square hand,
Might of their obstinate art
take the sad stars apart
...

No lamp so bright
As this whose fist of light
Beats on my table
...

Not much by way of luggage or farewell
Here at Southampton harbour. Be it so.
Whatever might be said is said by now
As one by one along a warehouse wall
...

Musical as birds are the Cammarch waters I see
Keeping the white, slow village; and all around
Lie the familiar meadows. Bitterly
Have I missed you, Cammarch, and my own high ground.
...

Mozart, a lorgnette's target, child without toys,
Consumed utterly by his own costly gift,
Disdaining the dancers by his precocity
Was rewarded at length with a formal curtsy.
...

In the bright city, bombs are breaking like flowers;
Over the houses, lamps and lanterns are drifting
Clearer than moonlight, white as Lucifer
Or drop, spilling the light into the crawling fires
...

Stared from a human house
Your death was ominous
So formal. With Madrid
fell and encircled head,
...

Do not imagine I leave you, Madrid, with a merry heart
Never in all your love, in your dress of light,
Have I known such fever of dancing, such fury of
Slamming heels, such blackbird whirring of
...

Fighting for freedom they
Signed his huge heart away
(They who could not even forget
How great his mind, his palette)
...

Have you ever lost something out of your hand,
Clean out of your bloody hand? One breath it was there
The next, gone, vanished, banco; the stupid thing
Spirited away suddenly into thin air
...

Houses near the Etoile. How delicately Proust
Imagines them, clearer than any dream or watercolour
By Seine or Seurat; see, these shutters move
And change perspective as I pass them, reading.
...

All night you lay curled in the shell of my arms
I held you as one holds a precious cup
For kissing your lips I could not sleep
When dawn came I was still caressing your hair
...

In vain shall lovers' sighs
Plead with cool paper,
Seek in uncertain rhyme
An articulate echo
...

17.

When first my face was new to her,
My lover said of me
My eyes were green; and the green waves
Rolled on a shallow sea.
...

Charles Fisher Biography

Charles Fisher (21 November 1914 – 23 January 2006) was a Welsh journalist, writer, poet and adventurer. Until 1953 he was based in Britain; afterwards, in Canada. He was the last surviving member of the Kardomah group, a literary and artistic circle in Swansea circa 1930, which included Dylan Thomas, Vernon Watkins and Daniel Jones. Fisher was born in Swansea. He was educated at the Bishop Gore School, Swansea, where he acted with the young Dylan Thomas in Galsworthy's Strife. He and Thomas were both taught English by Thomas's father, D.J. Thomas. After school he and Thomas both become journalists for the South Wales Evening Post, where Fisher's father was head printer. Charles was a keen rider and fisherman, and wrote a column for the paper on angling, 'Blue Dun'. A handsome young man, he used the contacts which the newspaper gave him, to enjoy a busy social life. At that period Fisher collaborated with Dylan Thomas on early drafts of the spoof thriller, 'The King's Canary'; which was completed by Thomas and John Davenport, but not published until 1976. He and Thomas would meet at the Kardomah cafe, with other aspiring young artists, among them Vernon Watkins, Daniel Jones, John Prichard, Mabey Owen and Keidrych Rhys. During World War II Fisher was an operative for British Intelligence. He saw active service in France. After the War Fisher wrote for Reuters, the South Wales Evening Post and the BBC. He was a Reuter's correspondent at the British Parliament. His poems of this period were published, like those of Dylan Thomas and Vernon Watkins, in Keidrych Rhys's magazine, Wales (which had begun publication in 1937). In London Fisher became an admirer of Eartha Kitt. He was briefly married to the Spanish opera singer, Isabel Elana Alonzo, but they were divorced before 1953. In 1953 after attending Dylan Thomas's funeral at Laugharne Fisher emigrated to Canada. Here he became a Hansard reporter in the Canadian House of Commons, and used his long vacations to travel widely - at first in Spain, where he became friendly with the Romani people at Granada and became an accomplished player of flamenco guitar; afterwards in Mexico, Morocco, India and east Asia. In 1963 he married Jane Edwards, with whom he had one daughter, Caitlin. He and Jane had a house on Elgin Street, in Ottawa, Canada, famous in the 1960s and 70s for its vibrant company. He and Jane were later divorced, but remained friends. After retirement he lived in Almonte, Ontario. In the 80's and 90's he became a friend of Canadian experimental composer and artist, Oool Fjolkunnigr. The two collaborated in musical compositions, an improvised musical group, Rotton Kidz, and other artistic projects; and traveled extensively in the Tonga Islands, Thailand and India. His book of poems, The Locust Years, was published in 1988. In 2003 he visited Swansea, to take part in the festival at the Dylan Thomas Centre commemorating the 50th anniversary of Dylan Thomas's death. Shortly before his death he completed his memoir, Adios Granada, about his life with Romani people in Sacremonte, Spain, in the 1950s and 1960s. Charles Fisher died in Bangkok, aged 91. His body was cremated at a local temple, and his ashes were sent home to Canada. He was survived by his ex-wife, Jane, his daughter, Caitlin, and his two grand-daughters.)

The Best Poem Of Charles Fisher

Song For Lost Lovers

Here is my hand to keep
My heart not yet
Take it, and do not weep
That I have met
Her love, and known the glance
That you loved once.

Frail bond, this rhyme I use;
Soon it must sever.
Teach me, when I shall lose
her love forever,
New songs - else all in vain
Your tears, your pain.

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