Beauty Poetry Bouquet

Poetry by Alun Robert


Butterfly Valley

Sail together to Butterfly Valley
leave Ölüdeniz on a twin-masted gulet
with breeze blowing firmly
sails fluttering strongly
as sea horses gallop
along the wooded coast.

Depart the dead sea
with the Blue Lagoon discovered
and pebble beach crackling
in July’s searing heat
to find tranquillity
with me in Butterfly Valley
close to waterfalls
but high above the sea.

Pitch up in our tent
high on Butterfly Valley
cool amongst tall trees
sheltering from breeze
as pink sun sets west
off towards tomorrow
crescent burning bright
to sharpen our sight.

Cling together tight
with embraces tender
to watch sparkling stars
on a crystal clear night
promising eternal love
here at Butterfly Valley
consummating our life
so together we will be.

Partake of the waters
cleanse our souls together
staying around all summer
my bohemian lover
away from Ölüdeniz
and its mad rushing crowd
to be at one with nature
at one with each other
and live for each day
deep in Butterfly Valley.

 

Lâle

Early months of winter, lâle planted in millions
throughout the meadows close to plants and trees
at the Emirgan Korusu of Sanyer district
alongside the Boğaziçi in European Istanbul
where cypress trees grow tall, free, and wild
from days of Feridun and those who came after
when Ismail Pasha built three fine pavilions
in timber painted yellow, pink, and pure white.

After long winter months of rain and deep snow,
lâle rise en masse from terra firma protruding,
pushing and peeking desperate for sunlight with
three petals, three sepals erupting from each bulb.

On early April morning in amongst the cedars,
the pine, the spruce and Colorado white fir,
carpets of the lâle are born highly fragrant
scattered and opulent from bough to bough
in multiple shades yellow, pink, and pure white
with variegated edges to those smooth and round,
bright red and rainbow colours but never in blue
though elusive black tepals occasionally appear.

A month full of splendour and picturesque vistas,
second to none for lovers of colour and romance
then as quickly as they arrive, lâle all fade for
spring is their life and after that they are gone.

May and thereafter, millions of bulbs are removed
to be stored in a tomb until they are reborn
at the Emirgan Korusu of Sanyer district
alongside the Boğaziçi in European Istanbul
where cypress trees grow tall, free, and wild
from days of Feridun and those who came after
when Ismail Pasha built three fine pavilions
in timber painted yellow, pink, and pure white.

 

The Myopic Parting

    before myopia – then I could see you clearly
your profile
your image
your tendrils stretching out
searching
clasping
with a smile so sweet
to cut through quasi quarrels

     about everything and nothing
while your torso arced
flattered
fluttered
when gliding like a Soemmerring
through the Serengeti

     but when you approach now
languid step after step
you emerge through my haze
ripe from your parfum
to surprise
to amaze
to manifest like morning sun

     the precursor to life
with every iota I treasure
every moment precious
for degeneracy advents
as sure as a Greek tragedy
     that will forsooth arrive

then brilliant blues
the rampant reds
the yellows
the secondaries
will only coagulate
    when I close my eyes
for you will be reborn
as vivid
as clear
corporeal as when
we squatted amongst linearis bushes
to pick rooibos leaves
in the fields of Cederberg
     then jived to Boyoyo Boys

    but my future is memories
of sigh
of sound
of scents
senses of a life
     before myopia – though I still feel you dearly

 

Wall Of Water

In blistering sunshine
on a proxigean tide
with waves finely poised
between animation and fragmentation

exuberant saltwater spray
flickers from south-easterlies
in hues of azure
through cyan to greens

in a Southwold wall of water
crashing on the foreshore
appearing and vanishing,
reappearing again

inspiring writers and musicians,
poets and artists of repute
and mere mortals marching
to the beat of shimmering shingle,
ebbing and forging

south from the truncated pier
on an elegant promenade
squinting at the lighthouse
sparkling white, gleaming

while ingesting pungent aroma
from Adnams’ hop brewery
passing beach huts clothed vermillion
through oranges to yellows

against toxins from traffic,
raucous cries of herring gulls
and Shostakovich’s Jazz Suite 2 from
the organ in the Electric Picture Palace

en route to the confluence
where placid river meets rabid sea
with turbulence omnipotent
enough to test ancient mariners

from Blackshore harbour
and across River Blyth
at Walberswick battling
against the ravages from storms

on Suffolk’s crumbling coast
a bastion of beauty with
last traces of Dunwich subsumed
by rampant erosion.

 

inspired by the seascapes of English artist Maggi Hambling