Page 10 of 12 Evening Garden, Omen, The Ruler, Literal Oak: poems by Roy Carnon

Poem: "Evening Garden" by Roy Carnon

Alone I stand
Bye window framed in holy light,
And slipping slowly westward to the night
The sunlit evening garden.

I stand alone
Where the bank falls steep
And the pool of shade's made sheltered and deep
As the sunlight flows on through the gully.

And now to the north where the lichens grow
The sun paints all with his parting glow
And the clapperboard's warm to the hand,
Alone where I stand.


Poem: "Omen" by Roy Carnon

Sleep shadows
touch the edge of that sad smile
shallow in my grubby bed.
Tomorrow's window
will waste the glance
of this feint lamp --
sordid morning
tawdry in my stale blossoming.


Poem: "The Ruler" by Roy Carnon

I am the ruler;
with linear geometry I subtract
the finite from the infinite;
the outline of your living;
a colour coding;
bed and breakfast table
with the straight black line
of numbers counted down.

I have the power
(for I am the ruler,)
to draw a tear
in two dimensions
on the paper heart
of your intent
and over your dissenting garden
scribe a blasphemy of sound.

I am vested
(sub-section forty-nine)
to direct your passion,
and demand in triplicate
an elevation of your love
in coffins consciously designed
by my black angled line.
For I am the ruler!


Poem: "Literate Oak

Word of the middle generation
were not first
to bed their pastorals
on your dappled counterpane
or doodle youthful afternoons
in perimeter shade,
high sun filtering
green our love.

And green our brands
on your sap-laminated bole --
tempered to shore the centuries
and smooth the thighs of lovers
and hides of deer,
probing deep to showers
that leached our history
in Hampton's park
where Wolsey took his leave
and Anna -- tea.

Your text of leaves
yellows our underlay --
the literate canopy
has changed,
only the roebuck generations
scavenging graffiti
succeed leaf-fall.


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