Overcast (I took the bus)

Overcast

I did not read the book
I took
I did not cast a glance
not once
I took the bus and dreamt
no end
I wrote some verse of love
and stuff
I dreamt that in the street
we’d meet
and summer would return
and burn
and that would be the date
from fate:
the sun and you and me
all three

Christina Egan ©2023

There is evidently a lot of waiting for sunshine in northern latitudes, as in Warten ist der Winter and Hinter dem Olivenbaum

This playful verse from a London double-decker bus was actually written in mid-August, when it should be bright and hot everywhere; yet the weather has always been unpredictable and is now turning seriously unstable. In this poem, the summer is not returning after the period of winter but after a long, dull, cool break between early and late heatwaves.

rosengarten (II. sprühendgrau)

rosengarten

II.

sprühendgrau

die ungeahnten sonnenglanz vergießen
die regenschauer und den regenbogen
zu einem milden meeresgrau verwoben
die augen sollen meine verse grüßen.
dem nebelland das immerkalte wogen
in ungestümem reigentanz umschließen
den inseln voller sprühendgrüner wiesen
sind jene augen ursprünglich enthoben.
drum frag ich nicht nach lilien und lavendel
die flammen sprühen auf gebeugtem stengel
noch nach des südens uferlosem blau
nichts brauche ich als meinen kleinen garten
wo alle wunder lächelnd meiner warten
die bunte welt geballt in sprühendgrau.

Christina Egan ©2023

This sonnet is part of a cycle of 14 poems, whereby each line of the first one (rosengarten I. tiefversteckt) furnishes the first line of a new sonnet.

The island described here is Ireland, but the cycle takes you to other islands, as well as to the palace gardens of Würzburg, Germany, which first inspired me.

Word cloud of colours and flowers and in white on black; in the middle, "multi-coloured", "green", "golden".

Word cloud of colours in the German sonnet cycle (rosengarten I-XIV), generated on the Simple Word Cloud Generator. In the middle are “colourful”, “green”, and “golden”. Since the colours of the roses are not described, the roses themselves are added.

The Red Helicopter (Tottenham)

I have seen the red helicopter of the emergency services land in parks in Tottenham (Lordship Recreation Ground and Bruce Castle Park). In both cases it was the middle of the day, and in both cases, a teenager had been stabbed, once fatally and once nearly so. Another young man was shot and left to die in Tottenham Cemetery. All these green spaces are vast and idyllic.

See Himmelblaue Uhr (Tottenham) for Bruce Castle Park as a haven of tranquillity and Gedächtnisgarten zu Tottenham for the old cemetery as a garden of peace.

Die Wege von Malta

Die Wege von Malta

Über das zerrissene
blütensprühende Gestein
legt sich das zerschlissene
Fischernetz im Sonnenschein:
Eselswege, Autostraßen,
steil und krumm und oftgeflickt,
Klosterhöfe, Promenaden,
salzbehaucht und dufterquickt.

Netz von Stiegen, Steigen, Pfaden
wandelt flugs ein Wolkenbruch
zu Kanälen und Kaskaden,
füllt die ausgedörrte Schlucht,
tränkt die berstendgrünen Triften,
häuft den sonnengoldnen Sand,
formt den Lehm der stolzen Küsten,
höhlt die wilde Felsenwand…

Christina Egan © 2018

Small bays of limpid turquoise water, golden rock and sand, fresh green slopes.

A golden and green impression of Malta Island in February —
glorious spring! — Photograph: Christina Egan © 2018.

When the Snow Falls

When the Snow Falls

Tiny fir tree and orange nasturtium covered with thick melting snow.

When the snow falls,
when the snow calls
with its crystal-clear voice,
when the streets hum,
when the streets drum
with their boisterous noise,
when the fog shifts,
when the fog lifts
and the sun gilds the stone –
let your smile grow,
for a while know
you are never alone

Christina Egan © 2019

Photograph: Christina Egan © 2017.

This poem was commissioned for a Christmas card by a university library.
Feel free to write or print it in your cards, as long as acknowledge me as the author somewhere.

Coal Tits / Leaf Surf

Coal Tits

Coal tits are weaving through the leaves,
leaves tinged with gold and tinged with rust;
the earth, relieved of darkness, breathes
before the leaves will turn to dust.

Coal tits are chirping in the leaves,
wings tinged with fire, tinged with ashes;
their song is weaving with the breeze
through our windows’ rigid meshes…

Christina Egan © 2017

Songbird with yellow breast, otherwise grey, black & white, on bare branch with orange lichen.

Leaf Surf

The lawn lies like an emerald bay,
like golden sand the fallen leaves.
The wind is waltzing on the roofs,
the wind is leaping through the streets,
it rolls into the shimmering heaps,
it stirs them up, it whirls them up,
it sweeps a wilful whispering surf
onto the sun-bathed autumn turf!
The earth takes one last joyful breath
before the shade falls like a spell.
That there is so much death in life
and so much dancing life in death…

Christina Egan © 2017

Photograph by makamuki0 (Marc Pascual).

sonnenschein essen

sonnenschein essen

I.

rot-goldnes feuerwerk
dichte garben unablässig:
die hohen wipfel am waldessaum
in der zärtlichen brise

schwarz geäderte kristallkugeln
feingefaserte korallenkegel:
die bäume zwischen den giebeln
gegen den steigenden tagstern

schimmernde rokokoperlen
und leuchtende granate:
die gelben birnen im laub
die roten äpfel im gras

Group of pine-trees directly in front of the sea, the sky framed by their branches.

II.

die welt betrachten
wie ein gemälde
bild um bild um
bild

den sonnenschein essen
wie brot
und das brot
wie ein geschenk

gleichgewicht
von tag und nacht
heute ist
heute

Christina Egan © 2018

Beach at Bansin on Usedom (Baltic Sea). —
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2017.

Captivity

I.

looking through the lofty glass door
I feel the faint sun on my forehead

I press my hands against the glaze of ice
I grasp the slender handle to crack it

I must lean out of it
I must step out of it

into the sparkling garden below me
into the buzzing street beyond it

I must follow the clouds to the edge of the land
I must follow the winds to the edge of the earth

 

II.

Iron railing in brick wall, like a gate without lock, with view onto green riverbank.tomorrow I will open my eyes
as if I saw the sun for the first time

tomorrow I will get up and go
as if my steps were guided and guarded

I will step out of my mind
into someone else’s mind

I will step out of my eyes
into someone else’s eyes

then I shall touch beauty
then I shall taste life

 

III.

Heavy rusty gate, decorated with swirls, with keys in lock.the summer was short
and long was the winter

I witnessed neither
I looked upon bricks

that was when I realised
how glaring lamps are and how bland

how pages are made of paper
and screens stay stubbornly flat

that was when I faded
from a flag to a shadow

I chewed on the bare bread of hope
turning sweet on my tongue

Christina Egan © 2012

Photographs: Christina Egan © 2018 / 2014.

Solstice Scroll

Solstice Scroll

I break some rare and short-lived flowers,
I sacrifice some sunshine hours
for Melpomene’s altar steps.
Since Phaeton’s horses thunder higher
with ever more abundant fire,
I’ll finish ere the day-star sets.

I’ll call upon Apollo’s powers,
I’ll stand amongst the cypress towers
around my children’s hidden tomb.
I’ll write my elegy and sing it,
I’ll scroll it up, stand up and fling it
into the bright barge of the moon.

Christina Egan © 2018

Straight Roman road with ruins and trees to the left and right, in the dusk

Roman road in Carthage, Tunisia.
Photograph: Christina Egan © 2014

The Palms and the Poet

The Palms and the Poet

Short sturdy palm-trees, their leaves being blown to one side by a strong wind; blue sky, bright lawn.The palm-trees where the poet lingers
stretch out a thousand feathery fingers
and offer sweetest dates.
The shoulder-high ones’ shining tresses
give to the passing knight caresses,
the tall ones, sprinkled shades.

They weave their silken wings together
to shield him from the weighing weather
and point him to the wells.
He seems to smile, but does not notice
the leaves nor fruits, for in his throat is
a spring of syllables.

Christina Egan © 2005

Pond with weeping willow reflected and white goose crossing.

 

Huge Harp

The weeping willow
is smiling in the sunshine,
dancing in the wind.
You sit by the pond beneath,
as if inside a huge harp.

Christina Egan © 2017

The tanka’s image of the poet beside a large harp or lyre, as if he were sitting inside, was inspired by stained-glass windows or illuminated manuscripts showing King David performing the psalms he is said to have composed.

Photographs: Christina Egan © 2014 / © 2018.