damp

Shooting-stars (Damp Wood)

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Shooting-stars

Damp wood, damp walls: the world smells of decay.
The scented roses are resurgent, yet
too many leaves are falling, fallen, wet
across the spotless lawn, the winding way.
Above Bruce Castle’s reddish parapet
and wayward weather-vane, the veil of grey
is torn apart to let a dazzling ray
caress the clock-face, still for summer set.
The light is fierce and will not be subdued,
the clock smiles sky-blue with a rim of gold,
the grass is glittering and fresh and bold,
and then the sky itself triumphs, renewed.
All this eclipsing, flash on flash, they pass:
the parakeets, a dozen shooting-stars.

Christina Egan ©2020

Turret painted in pink, with bright-blue clockface and golden weather-vane, under a blue sky.
Bruce Castle, Tottenham, England.
Photograph: Christina Egan ©2017.

This sonnet was read at an
event of Tottenham Trees
at Bruce Castle Museum
in November 2024, together
with Thought Bench and
Hollow Oak (Anglo-Saxon spell).

A Lonely Star

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Decorative paper, black with ripples in grey, white, purple.A Lonely Star

A lonely star surveys the streets.
The dark is brownish, blurred by lamps.
The cold is damp and slowly creeps
through draughty windows, long-locked doors.
Bats flit about like ghostly hands.
A blinking helicopter roars;
the city stirs and sighs and sleeps.
The star looks down and frowns and stands.

Christina Egan © 2017

 

Decorative paper. Image provided
by British Library through Flickr.

Kerzenbekrönt

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Kerzenbekrönt

Senkt sich die Dämmrung an frostigen Tagen
– früher denn jemals, doch zauberhaft blau –
hängt über stolzen gewölbten Mansarden,
hält über giebelgeschmückten Fassaden,
bannt aus dem Geiste das leidige Grau.

Stürzen Gestirne herab in Kaskaden
– feucht ist das Pflaster, doch goldengetönt –
spannen sich Perlen an Faden um Faden
blinkend und bebend von Laden zu Laden
bis an die Kirchtürme, kerzenbekrönt.

Christina Egan © 2016

This poem was inspired by a front page photograph of the superb newspaper Agora  in Fulda, Germany, which I had folded over. Then I noticed that beneath the idyllic historical street lit up for Christmas, an industrial container had been inserted through photo montage: as a makeshift home for a refugee family. I felt I had to write a second poem, which you can find at Farbechte Hoffnung.

The street shown is Friedrichstraße, which gives you quite a good impression of past centuries, despite severe damage during the Second World War and ensuing changes. Fulda is quite good for midwinter holidays because of the Christmas Market, the nativity scenes in the churches, numerous festive events… and the snow in the mountains.

Wandel (Wo ist der hohle Baum)

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Wandel

Wo ist der hohle Baum
im Kreise der steinernen Bänke,
der mit knochigen Fingern
die Netze des Nebels,
mit knorrigen Zehen
das feuchte Gras durchfischte?

Buds and fresh leaves on top of shoots above a parkAlles ist quellendes Blatt nun
und berstendes Bunt,
Laubzauber, lautloses Lachen,
tiefer Atem langer Tage
zwischen bergendem Grund
und goldenem Wind.

Christina Egan © 2006

Schloßpark Fulda im Frühling.
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2014.

Standing in the Slush

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Standing in the Slush
(February Haiku )

*

Standing in the slush,
by the bus stop, I’m looking
for lost memories.

*

Wet empty benches,
wet winding sand paths, furrowed
by hurried footsteps.

*

I’m rubbing my eyes,
weighed down by dreams, and there –
first leaves like lances!

*

Christina Egan © 2013

Like February Sparks, these haiku were written at the hardest time of the year, when our strength is about to be exhausted entirely. This is when we have to be strongest, when we have to fight hardest, as the previous post, Venus and Mars, describes. At least, in southern England, flowers appear very early, in winter, really, to cheer you up…!

The First of December

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

The First of December

The ample, even, hand-like leaves
carelessly crumpled up by the frost
overnight,

the luscious colonies of moss
dusted with ice in the colourless light
of the day.

And we cannot deny this is still only autumn:
the yearly slow and sure descent
towards the cold.

This is the month of shrinking days,
of darkening hair and shivering skin
touched by damp.

This is the season of flickering lights,
some of them real, all of them glimmering
drops of hope.

Christina Egan © 2012

Red Balloon

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Red Balloon

In the crowd,
in the too early dark,
the enveloping damp, I rush,
crush onto the red bus, and there,
on the front bench, you are, as if waiting
for me, or at least hoping for me, with a smile,
a wide warm smile, just like the one you gave me
nineteen years ago, with the same smooth oval face;
and our words change the day into a string of pearls,
change the city into a cluster of colourful balloons;
in the damp dark evening, I feel the sun rising,
feel a breeze rising, taking my heart with it,
like a little red balloon, weightless,
into shadeless heights, we are
two bouncing balloons
on a red bus!
And
I love you
so
…
…
…
…
…

Christina Egan © 2016

Poem Red Balloon in the shape of a red balloon.

This poem was published in the
Tottenham Community Press,
No. 32, March 2020, p. 14.

There is also a wedding or
anniversary poem about a
Yellow Balloon !