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Benjamin Burns's Poetic Blog

Benjamin Burns's Poetic Blog



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Matilda, Who told Lies, and was Burned to Death. - by Hilaire Belloc

Matilda told such Dreadful Lies, 
It made one Gasp and Stretch one’s Eyes;
Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,
Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,
Attempted to Believe Matilda:
The effort very nearly killed her,
And would have done so, had not She
Discovered this Infirmity.
For once, towards the Close of Day,
Matilda, growing tired of play,
And finding she was left alone,
Went tiptoe to the Telephone
And summoned the Immediate Aid
Of London’s Noble Fire-Brigade.
Within an hour the Gallant Band
Were pouring in on every hand,
From Putney, Hackney Downs, and Bow.
With Courage high and Hearts a-glow,
They galloped, roaring through the Town,
‘Matilda’s House is Burning Down!’
Inspired by British Cheers and Loud
Proceeding from the Frenzied Crowd,
They ran their ladders through a score
Of windows on the Ball Room Floor;
And took Peculiar Pains to Souse
The Pictures up and down the House,
Until Matilda’s Aunt succeeded
In showing them they were not needed;
And even then she had to pay
To get the Men to go away!

It happened that a few Weeks later
Her Aunt was off to the Theatre
To see that Interesting Play
The Second Mrs. Tanqueray.
She had refused to take her Niece
To hear this Entertaining Piece:
A Deprivation Just and Wise
To Punish her for Telling Lies.
That Night a Fire did break out—
You should have heard Matilda Shout!
You should have heard her Scream and Bawl,
And throw the window up and call
To People passing in the Street—
(The rapidly increasing Heat
Encouraging her to obtain
Their confidence) — but all in vain!
For every time she shouted ‘Fire!’
They only answered ‘Little Liar!’
And therefore when her Aunt returned,
Matilda, and the House, were Burned.

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Karl’s Recollection

I remember
summer holidays off school
when I was 14
straight away up to Donegal

Sunday’s were my favourite
there was mass
the usual stuff
dinner and ice-cream

then I’d get into my Uncle’s car
lie back in the seat
and listen to James Last
the sound washing over me

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not listening or listening badly
to a chorus of bees

needing to betray,
needing this betrayal
to reveal itself
guilty, speechless, bewildered

in thought and in action
buzzing, corrosive 

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See a world tinted rose.
Commit evil acts.

See the world is tainted.
Shine like a rose to take it back. 

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stone
so stone-like
as to be mesmerising

sunlight
that widens the pupils for more

ivy
that detaches itself from walls
and trawls it’s leaves through liquid air

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I wish for this land
not the words of love
but its actions:
love in action
is the white road
between the yew trees,
the exuberance of a girl
leaping from rock to rock.
—point 82. - from Michael Hartnett’s Tao
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Thinking a poem
I mashed the potatoes
and involved myself
in the thinking.

Later my boss
told me that
the mash was beautiful.

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You’ve stirred a gleeful storm in me
Demons, do not open your umbrellas
Nothing trembles that is not associated with it

Let’s talk, hold hands, dance
Action based on understanding is therapy

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from Cambridge towards Birmingham

exchanging quiet words
about the food we’ll eat

motionless wind turbines
drift off

on a train through the sun

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There’s a Rachel-shaped absence in the air beside me
that pulses with thoughts of her arrival.

She arrives unexpectedly. The absence dissipates
and smiles emerge, face to face.

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Pots, oh joy!
To scrub and rub
with a sponge, all day
I feel like pissing in you
and sauntering out of this kitchen
back into a potless sorrow.

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a heron up a tall tree
over a river

for an hour
I watch, in this time
hardly moving

it produces one short note

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He who binds to himself a joy
Does the wingèd life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sunrise.
—William Blake
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If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite.

from - ‘The Marriage of Heaven and Hell’ by William Blake

full text here: http://www.levity.com/alchemy/blake_ma.html

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we sit, new to each other
at either edge of a blanket
on the damp grass

around us
are apartment buildings
with balconies
and parked cars

we sip at cups of coffee
in the cool spring sunshine
playing cards, snap and spit

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