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ARTS AND CULTURE

Prior to Christ

  • 15 October 2018

 

Selected poems

 

Prior to Christ

He wandered through wilderness,

dined on locust thorax and cuticle,

slurped from jugs of honey and preached;

to his following he said, 'The end is nigh.'

He dunked their heads in rivers.

At broods of vipers he screamed.

Inspired he sang of another man

prophesied to shine His light,

guide and act as lamb.

 

Herod, a tetrarch, ordered his arrest;

fearful of zealots and Tiberius' boot.

 

Upon baptising a carpenter, king,

a dove descended from the sky.

 

 

 

Wednesday evenings in Zhangjiagang

About ten minutes from our apartment

our Chinese opponents wait for our weekly

game of soccer, played on astro-turf,

on the top of a multi-storey car-park.

We play with the intensity of men

who engage with cardio just once a week.

Our team is multi-national; there's a skilful lad

from Hamburg who glides like a swan,

who scores many goals, another from Dublin

who jokes that he's running from the law.

The yank on our team is a scientist

who plays in goal; he answers my questions

on the Big Bang, on the many species

of fish, while we catch our breath on the side.

After the game we shake hands, and go

in taxis to the pub in the city — famed

for its fat burgers and cheap lager.

We toast to our win, question our visas,

exaggerate our sexual prowess, discuss

nothing and everything. We sign up

for next week's match, same time, same place

the top of the multi-storey car-park

where we each giving meaning to our week.

 

 

 

Don Juan takes a lover to a lake

Romantic walks in the wood have us hand

                   in hand pointing at the sycamore trees,

                                     the grey-squirrels searching for nuts;

 

we comment on their vermin like shell

                   and their beady black eyes, on the white

                                     priest-like collar of the fat wood pigeons

 

performing their sermons.

                   We go deeper, find a cool lake, rest

                                     and recite anecdotes of selling juniper

 

and sage by the gram.

                   A twisted stick becomes my instrument;

                                     I write erotic vignettes

 

in the clear water; you watch the ripples