from Issue #4: Poetry by David Howard

Photo (CC) takomabibelot @ Flickr

Photo (CC) takomabibelot @ Flickr

.

 *

.

And Her

The morning did what mornings do, left us
alone – although ‘us’ implies some consolation
from gossip, hugs, love of the common. But no

each perception is private, essential, isolating
like a poem, I thought, walking towards
the courtyard. Already I saw the scaffold.

 

 *

 

Safety

Between, that is where the poem grows…
A negotiator playing both sides:

the visible, the invisible.

Only the invisible owns every thing.
We measure the seen. The invisible, then.

And that spider.

 

  *

 

Look

After you said everything there was more.
Your sentence was not long enough.
The thing a word touches becomes less
tangible, nowhere near the world you know.

As if it was going to fit inside your head.
As if the lake and the lake’s reflections
included you. Everything said meant nothing
once the duck steadied itself and landed

leaving this sentence on the surface.

 

*

 

The role of the model

Touch your shadow and you
touch your self.

On your fingers mica, under each nail
the thread of a sail, the memory

there is a horizon
for every wind. As God is your witness

one among many. Break
bread as if you were declaring war

that shadow you move for
bitter as a blood-blister upon the lip

and hard, so hard.

.

***

ABOUT THE POET

David Howard spent thirty-five years compiling one book: The Incomplete Poems (Cold Hub Press, 2011). He is a winner of the Gordon & Gotch Poetry Award, the New Zealand Poetry Society Competition, the New Zealand Society of Authors Mid-Career Writers Award, and the University of South Pacific Press Poetry Prize. David held the Robert Burns Fellowship 2013 at Otago University.

12 thoughts on “from Issue #4: Poetry by David Howard

  1. This is fantastic. I would love to say something more engaging but I will have to let these poems sit with me a while and then perhaps I would have something better to say… but for now, Bravo.

  2. I really loved your poems. I especially enjoyed the lines, “But no
    each perception is private, essential, isolating
    like a poem” and “The thing a word touches becomes less
    tangible, nowhere near the world you know”. Quite thought-provoking. I look forward to reading more of your work.

  3. Well it sounds good but I miss the sense. Also, your referal to poetry in two out of the three poems seems a bit much. Whenever poets can’t think of something to say they invoke poetry or the writing of poetry as if they really believed there was such a thing as a Muse and nott simply talen, inspiration and hard work. >KB

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