Harry St Vincent Beechey Poems

Our kisses are those of children,

Warm, and sweet, and innocent.
...

When I was born so I was told
My mother danced to the sound of the polka
A 19th century dance in double time
Two beats to the bar was my birthing rhyme
...

1. Two - A gull's eye view
A boy on a board
A drunk in the dunes
Alone with the sea and sand and sky
...

I stood on the edge of Nothing
And gazed at the emptiness within.
I found it difficult to believe
That Darkness is the absence of light;
...

"I am the first man to stand on the moon", he cried,
His voice, cradled in air, to his helmet tied.
And no echo came from the mountains towering high
That reached black and white to the star-strewn sky.
...

I, your Guru
Have nothing to offer you.
NOTHING!
NETI!
...

There's a great grey plain where lichen grows,
by the sun unkissed.
And amorphous beings unanswered call,
from out the mist.
...

Delicate, exotic, the strange orchid entrances the mind
With colours and curves that twist dimensions.
The eye, deceived, deluded, turns the tormented vision
Inwards to infinity.
...

Strange it is, and quiet.
The pendent icicles, agleam with inner fire,
shame the winter sun,
and great smooth masses of unbroken white
...

We, the unborn,
[Heap curses on your heads,
Men of the age of Madness.
Hope of the the future stillborn,
...