Jan De Raeymaeker
Biography of Jan De Raeymaeker
Jan De Raeymaeker Poems
So old these grey bones; so old, and so alone Shrugging loose the remnants of their brown-soil coat Fingering the ice-cold water, touching its wet brush Tips and knuckles crushed by the wearing foam
I turn out the light and am left with a flashbulb sight Remembered shapes fade quickly in colour, spreading to naught Warm walnut, burgundy, fig-green, gold: colours forgotten I stand alone, blinking nothing
He's sitting awkwardly, set aside Dirty hands holding one stained leg Shadowed on the steps of the old hospital On this warmish September day
I rushed outside, ran into its arms A friend I had known since young Felt its fast-flowing flanks curve by Its thick fingers fill up my palm
Don't talk of graves at your tender age Not until your rickety rack is a trembling wreck Till your white-film eyes are all but blind
His bum was lowered over the bowl, exposed to the cold Then the arse rebuked the wide-rimmed water-logged flue A grunt of disgruntlement at being kept in the dark so long Followed by a croaking yawp as the mechanics kicked off
There was blackness, a darkness, under her skin That broke out, through the cracks in her lips Lurked in her hair, her scalp, eyebrows, even her lashes Leaked from her sockets and around them
Witness To A Trip
I was the witness to that trip A lady of haughty hold striding boldly by the Green Her confident step clipping, pencil suit sharp Thin-rimmed glasses, logo-trimmed: a clashing match
I am a mobile phone, beautifully small and sleek Encased in polycarbonate and brushed chrome Do not reduce my existence to lying in stasis on a table Commuted to the life of a landline: a crime
On Yer Bike
A rattling racer lugs sluggishly In the lee of Harcourt Street Caught fast between twin-tracks The Luas lines from Hatch Street to the Green
Sound me. Am I not round in your mouth? Do I split your lips? Make you spit?
Beating My Boundaries
How do I think beyond these meagre physical bounds? Make my mind forget its teachings, instincts bred for eons A rock-solid world slow-learned through experience What might make me ignore that which I know for sure?
My knee popped A single dull clock Rock hitting rounded rock
Don't forget the butt Do you feel sorry for it? Shake your head sadly at its down-trodden looks So abused, now frayed and thrown away
Beating My Boundaries
How do I think beyond these meagre physical bounds?
Make my mind forget its teachings, instincts bred for eons
A rock-solid world slow-learned through experience
What might make me ignore that which I know for sure?
Allow me to conquer touch and sight, and every sense
Eloquently think irrationality upon my reasonable self?