Note by quivering note, the guitar
uncoffins its soul.
Something ascending into deathlessness
pieces together a passion, while outside
the wind is strumming, drumming on the stone house.
Under dark beams, the firefly notes
assemble for a last assault. The orchestra
splits the gloom like a flare,
crashes crimson seas over black rocks.
The guitar scuttles after, among pools
of silence, picking up the pieces.
Sad lovely girl in my arms –
If we could be
at one with the wind and the music – no
clocks to watch, buses to catch. . .
The wind has gone
wherever a wind goes when it isn’t blowing;
the music sleeps,
curled like a mouse in the cassette
while our twin-spooled togetherness
its next occasion
between two lives).
Anthony Watts has been writing ‘seriously’ for about 40 years. He has won 26 First Prizes in poetry competitions and was longlisted for the National Poetry Competition 2014. His poems have appeared in magazines and anthologies, including Poetry Salzburg Review, The Rialto and Riggwelter. His fifth collection, Stiles, is due to be published by Paekakariki Press. His home is in rural Somerset and his main interests are poetry, music, walking and binge thinking – activities which he finds can be happily combined.