Giles Watson Poems
|6.||There Is A Friend Who Sticketh Closer||8/26/2013|
|14.||They That Mourn||8/26/2013|
|16.||Branwen To The Starling||8/26/2013|
|23.||Pearl: A Translation||8/27/2013|
|28.||A Kind Of Bright Darkness||8/14/2013|
|29.||The Butcher's Wife||8/26/2013|
Comments about Giles Watson
'Forget me not, ' I thought you said,
and your gaze was straight and true.
I wondered, by your garden's edge,
could I disremember you?
The light refracted at your heart:
a warmth that radiated through.
'No, I dare not let them fade:
those powdered hues of pink and blue.'
'Forget me not, ' I hoped you said
as the summer bleached to white:
it was the hope that startled me,
like a swallow, into flight.
'Forget me not': I know it's true,
little flower of grace and light.
The time must come, whate'er I do
when I remember in the ...
It beams in at a slant, lending a nimbus
to each thistle and blade of grass. Land
is prone to tilting; time and distance
are seen for what they are: illusions.
Rooks glint white at a moment's glance,
then lapse into silhouettes, pursued
by gilded ravens. Towns turn to vapours.
Horizons are blurred; clouds become hills.