Felixstowe Café Poets: Falling in Love

There is a not altogether comfortable feel to today’s three poems. But who always wants comfortable? They tap into an intensity experienced at the fall into love, the precarious insecurity that even a lifetime of a loving relationship may not entirely dispel, or the awe inspired by an impressive presence. Alfie Davis personifies love as a heartless master in an ironic twist that would be funny if it weren’t also painful. Alexandra Davis uses the technique of blazoning (employed by poets through the ages) to attach detailed descriptions to parts of her lover’s body; traditionally this enabled a shower of compliments to be bestowed yet here the ending is somewhat disconcerting. Kaaren Whitney’s bold title is continued into this breathless poem where nature is a hostile, masculine force eventually dominated by the hero sweeping in like a gladiator in his own potent masculinity. All three speakers seem slightly fragile in the face of a powerful presence, however peaceful or merciful it may be.  

 

Oh love, you cruel master!

You draw me in on a false impression.

“She loves me, she loves me not.”

Oh, the mind goes mad.

And in the end I suffer

while you gain another follower,

another victim.

 

by Alfie Davis

 

 

Blazon

weather in the head squall in my throat

your mouth has always offered me shelter

and your thigh is a tree trunk in a wood

I can wrap my arms around and hide behind

and your nose is a shape I can make with my finger and thumb

just so it fits as if the missing pieces of me are you

and your eyebrows curve down past the edge

of your eyes that are always sad

they could not look sadder

whatever happens

 

by Alexandra Davis

 

MY SAVIOUR

 

Three hundred ragwort, six hundred dock

and fifteen hundred creeping thistle:

tall, sturdy, strong, their roots claw the clay

resisting the leather cloven hands,

the tawny tight muscles that wrench stems

dexterously from the brick-baked earth

thwarting the primitive urge to spread,

to clothe the land with their self same kind.

My hero, he arrives with surprise, saves my fields

the seven year’s weed from one year’s seed.

 

by Kaaren Whitney

 

Calling all lovers of poetry! The Felixstowe Café poets run monthly meetings, every third Thursday of the month, at His Lordship’s Library in the Orwell Hotel. They meet to discuss, read and appreciate all kinds of poetry, from that of published poets as well as their own poetry. At just £2.50 per session, please do come along.They will be at the upcoming Felixstowe Book Festival and look forward to sharing their love of poetry with you there.