Martin Slidel: Ten Poems

Sitting straight In an outsize suit, A puce tie, Lines that time Cannot hide Palms creas’d Inside an office tray Your desk reveals A disarray. How far… my life… My life from yours …has strayed …has strayed. Resplendent days Discard’d like leaves Golden, Dropping, Dropping from The skeleton tree Her fingers point To renewed green To search the sun Her flesh long since Burned upon Whilst moon Moves o’er moor Whilst death Seeps into sea Whilst tide Spreads ash Like hiving bees You were life to me. You: Leaning into the sink Singing Your head lifting; Honeyed singing. © Martin Slidel 2018 Photograph © Martin Slidel 2018

Knowing I can vanish keeps me sane Equal hoops merge into one And in trinity infer – in trinity infer ’Tis the interlinking Of connotation with experience Of experience within Outside or inside the ring I am walking around or through (Outside or inside the ring I am walking around or through) – Touch – listen – touch – listen Equal hoops merge into one And all circumferences spin. Henceforth A balance-ring doth turn Thus spake the interlinking Of travel with destination Of destination without leaving And I listen. On a carriage window my handprint fades (I hear its fading stain). For Knowing I can vanish keeps me sane. © Martin Slidel 2018 Photograph © Martin Slidel 2018

There is no yesterday There is no tomorrow There is only now; This moment I am me And you are you And this Is all we have. © Martin Slidel 2018 Photograph © Martin Slidel 2018

Murders Deaths And graves It’s been the same Since time began Since the school-bell rang There are no victims There is no release He is a boy Clasping a piece He is the knife He is the gun He is the child Racing the sun Our race fails To deal with anger Overspilling Anger There are no victims There is no sense In the senseless Wielding of power These are not names in print These are not others These are our lives Husbands Friends Brothers Lovers Sisters Colleagues Wives There are no victims Of the blade Only murders Deaths And graves. © Martin Slidel 2018 Photograph © Martin Slidel 2018

I I’m not going to stay inside I’m not going to hide I may not be on your side (Nor you on mine) Though Heaven knows I’ve tried I don’t care Because that’s how life is: Life is sadness Life is leaving behind Life is the clearing Of the mind Life Is all we never find. II I will go To show my face To dance all night Upon your grave To lead unspoken fears astray To say the things that I must say I will go Because I may To pay the price that I must pay I will go Not stay away. © Martin Slidel 2018 Photograph © Martin Slidel 2018

Next door They installed Twin chandeliers White walls White voile Ceiling to floor They don’t talk To their neighbour They walk silently To their door. A diamante hairclip Shines, compliantly Next door They installed Twins:  Jemima and Giles, The other side A boy named Miles They satisfy The two-point-five Yet I am a child Still alive Fighting against The nine-to-five. © Martin Slidel 2018 Photograph © Martin Slidel 2018

Thank you for being a friend Thank you for letting me fail Thank you for giving my life back Thank you for making miracles Thank you for being there Thank you for wanting me here Thank you for listening Thank you for reason Thank you for time Thank you for home Thank you for your laugh Thank you for driving the car Thank you for understanding Thank you for Sunday mornings Thank you for cups of tea Thank you for simplicity Thank you for trust Thank you for love Thank you for honesty Thank you for letting me be Thank you for you. © Martin Slidel 2018 Photograph © Martin Slidel 2018

I don’t want you to recall How I cut the strings and flew I don’t want you to refer To whom you thought you knew I don’t want to revisit The places where I wasn’t free I don’t want to return To who I used to be. © Martin Slidel 2018 Photograph © Martin Slidel 2018

A sound         A-cooing                 A twist                         A turn                                 A tone.                                               A not-term                                                       A nocturne                                                              An alternative           ...

I People are cruel One false move They’ll abandon You People are fools Who carp about a dream Who judge you For your living means And fools must crow And tell you how Everything In life’s just swell You’re silenced as Their schemes implode You find that you Can’t be so bold For life is tough So off they rush To mark their stone To meet their god And bones are crushed And made to dust Then come the wind To take them up. II Life like a fig-leaf Only wilts, its  Fruit in the sun Pipped and dry Life is a punt Stuck in the silt, it Marks the question Of why We are human beings Not Human Kind. © Martin Slidel 2018 Photograph ©  Martin Slidel 2018