New book- Mortal by Veronica Aldous

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How ink will help me understand

 

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How ink will help me understand

So long to arrive, stamped FORGOTTEN
The pale blue vellum, the dark words
Each beautifully formed curlicue, a flourish
To assuage long spent terror, tears.

The messenger was a page
This was hidden in his things
He meant to post it, or he did
Look, here’s the doghead stamp, the imprint
Inside he says how much you meant
The unspent years.

Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2018

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50 Years

 

P1220179 Look at a tree properly
Not even the whole conundrum, just one limb
Or the seed, even its body
Is only light streaks, immaterial
Just a green grey line hit by solar particles
Wood it may be, leaves, bark, tongue…
The best way is to forget all that
Remember, we are only peering
New born to shadow and shining
Christened and dying all at once
Just to see one thing
As it is
The eye burned by the ravening star.

Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2018

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Etudes

Pinks

Etudes
1.
A little guillotine chops the film
A girl assembles the frames
Into a great pattern, a rose window
Beyond a cloister racked with old hats.
2.
My piano is filled with music
It swallowed the endless toothache
Of love, my coat pockets belch
Scores, minims and crotchets
The sanguineous ink of you.
3.
Soon the main event will commence
The screening of Some Moments  When You Were Happy
The orchestra tune up and everyone mutters
Such a concomitance of sound and image!
It is only a hollow warehouse in the rain
White without black is no story
The celluloid flaps endlessly.

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Balsam and Rue

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Balsam and Rue

Aunt Chook’s got the plant called pop-bang
outside her window, she raffled a doll
I didn’t win so I cried although I was 18
(I was very ill from footprints on my head)
When she’s on holiday we feed James
The cat, he’s a Maine Coon
He also has a pet stuffed toy otter
He wraps his cat arms round it and sings

Please may I, please may I, please may I

Aunt Chook looks after elderly people
She is 90. I tickled the balsam
It went kerrpow and the seeds went high
I miss James and Aunt Chook
They were 40 years ago
What happened?
I guess they still live in this box
In my head; I am not letting worms
Get to it, or headscars.


Veronica Aldous 2018 all rights reserved
Painting of Coulsdon Common by Veronica

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Homeless

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In a huddled corner I long for cuckoo pint, marjoram
Lush swathes of grass to brush and burr my fur
I am not a lush kitten, but an old mistress
Once called Pip, called RonkaConka
Now nameless prisoner of aching bones.

None comes to rescue one-eye, having served
My useful days on laps, my paps hung with tinies
Little tumblers long gone, no longer mother but ratter
Perhaps? I offer that.

I am forest, I declare I know how to dig a beetle
Pull the skin off a mouse so it looks like liver
I once caught a bat; its shrieks unnerved
The cold teeth of night, the neighbour’s dog
Bayed for blood, I charmed him through a gate
Dragging kills past his jaws
My eyes a gorgeous weaponry of hate.

I am wormy and I dribble
but I am still half-lovely
I want to stretch upon a hot doorstep
Eat cold tinned lungs, exude the smell
Of stinky worn out shoes, beloved
For what I am,
always yours
A whiskered nemesis, fallen star and ever, poet.

 

veronica aldous all rights reserved 2018

Picture shows my art and my  poetry books  now available on Lulu. Be lovely if you bought one! Click below.

http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?contributorId=1389043

 

 

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Mucilage

buddha

Mucilage

I thought about boiling some glue
Making flypapers in the gloom
Hanging them up and catching
Hardhearts and worrypests
Finaglers and wicked hurters

But I have caught glow worms and stars
And my mother’s beautiful voice
Singing to me, to calm me
As I weep on the stairs

I am still attached
By the caul
By the mind
By the heart.

 

Veronica Aldous  2018  all rights reserved

Painting by Veronica- Buddha meets my Bones

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When will it End?

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Pio and Almedo in the rotting courtyard
With the game of draughts between them
The huge banana palms in greenlit haze
From cigars Hypatia brought them

Sipping rum and trading whore-stories
She better not hear, the big bottom
Of all bottoms, as the sun falls
Behind her bottom
And night cicadas squizzle in the pots
Of dirty lilies and here come hot sausages
From the sausage and hot fat bars
As red and blue lights hit the little pool
In which Pio keeps his rum cold
Among Hypatia’s koi made of pvc
Best not disobey such wives
Almedo says…

This and all the other dreams
Of being 91,92,93
Still nipping women’s necks
But ridiculously crocodile-arsehole wrinkled
Plucking small guitars and singing
My love, my preciosa lily-
However did we ever get  so old?

 

Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2018

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