The Cold Tap Sings

the p-word

Tag: Sky

TOMORROW

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Tomorrow

we’re going up Wessenden
to walk among the bracken
the reservoirs the weirs
the waterfalls where water
falls from an evergrey sky
we’re going up Wessenden

THE CLIFFS NEAR VÍK Í MÝRDAL

photo: Robin Boothroyd

photo: Robin Boothroyd

I’ve spent the past few days gathering my thoughts about my recent trip to Iceland. I’ll be posting poems and journal entries on The Cold Tap Sings over the coming weeks, so stay tuned.

Let’s start with a poem about the sea meeting the cliffs near Vík í Mýrdal on Iceland’s south coast. The form mimics the effect of waves breaking.

***

The Cliffs Near Vík í Mýrdal 

the
the waves
the waves sculpt
the waves sculpt basalt
the waves sculpt basalt columns
the waves sculpt basalt
the waves sculpt
the waves
the
the tides
the tides push
the tides push & pull
the tides pull
the tides
the
the sea
the
the shore
the
the sea
the sea shore
the sea shore sings
the sea shore sings eternally
in the cathedral of the sky

***

More on Iceland here. Check out ‘Fathom’, my suite about the sea, here.

FATHOM – SEGMENTS

Here’s a recording of the pivotal moment of ‘Fathom‘ where the poem, like a musical piece, reaches the peak of its arch-like structure.

This is an improved version of the poem in the first post about the project that would later become ‘Fathom’, ‘Cross Section‘. Listen to my other recordings on my SoundCloud page here.

THE MIRROR

Here’s a wordplay I recently wrote on the train from Eastbourne to London. On this journey you snake through the South Downs and skate across a floodplain on the approach to Lewes, where this poem is set.

***

‘The Mirror’

The mirror the rain left
mirrored the sky.
It mirrored the clouds
when they sailed
through the sky.
It mirrored the sun
when it smiled
through the clouds.
It mirrored the bird
when it thirstily
kissed
the mirrored bird.
And when the clouds
grew bigger and blacker
it was no longer a mirror.
Instead it was a glut of rain.

***

I was looking at a puddle and then I saw the sky. It goes without saying that this was inspired by the abysmal weather we’ve been subject to in Britain this summer. Go here for another poem about rain. And, if things continue in the same vein, stay tuned for another.

CORNFLOWER BLUE

Haiku affords me
just seventeen syllables –
still I sketch the sky