John a'Beckett Poems

Drive up to where the smooth road takes a bend.
A peep-look in the rear-vision has you knowing
corn-poppy pretty much behind is what’s ahead
to venture forth into a green Mazury flowing;
...

Border town deep into night and the train named
after some distant mythical king remembered
for his famous dreams. Mieszko, Popiel-who now
we don't know in this snatch sleep of rust brakes
...

You'll surface soon, say, suddenly,
of all things in a Kovska tram:
two rugged-up passengers Time’s
traffic’s 'knocked about a bit',
...

The dairy cows have snapped their chains
and wandered into marsh. Hay’s wet again from yet
another burza burst of unpredicted rain. The cat’s
knocked the kompot onto Kasia’s Sunday Best
...

The long inviting lets feint fleeters merge, wane
out of synch into '11 o'clock'. West watches show
“What Would Have, Had We Not Been ” enveloping
us on a high meridian malingering in light shadow:
...

Out of the icicled window
of a cramped, crowded winter bus,
silver sun racing slick into gold, backing off
from the sighed frost, breath of my Slavic passengers;
...

Injured from the Battle of the Marne, wounds fatal-
his mind back-flashing to the events of The Affair:
Schwartzkoppen in a back-street Berlin hospital.
truth locked inside him, conscience meant, intent on
...

Our Boeing Lot slips through the wincing snow
delivering us back to what we don't quite know
is when or where, but strangely full of purpose:
Poland, a corner soul, the lost mnemonic point
...

Leisure-lovers, looking for
Exotic reasons to explore
The mystery of recent past
...

Noon winks a shadow in an over-sight of sun
at- sudden in a Krakow cranny- Stanczyk,
jester of our Conscience, courteous, cast off
from King Casimir’s royal ceremonies. There!
...