More Poems by Stephen Sinclair

All poems are the property and copyright of (c) Stephen Sinclair, works are not to be copied or used without written permission, please contact stephen with any enquiries regarding these.

The Dwarf and the Stripper and Other Poems

The dwarf and the stripper - poetry

Addenda Publishing, 2004

“A virtuoso performance … superb poems …” Iain Sharp, Sunday Star Times, January 2004


Home

Home - Poem by Stephen Sinclair

Home is the strangest destination

Familiar sights can pull you suddenly

Down dark winding stairs

The silence after exhalation

Calls you to a place once seen

In forgotten dreams. The novelty

Of shrieking plumage, giant insect species

Cannot catch you unawares

Quite as when a song thrush funnelling the night air

            -souvenir que veux-tu dire?-

unleashes

a bolt of despair

(and then there’s the fear)

Home is somewhere you have never been.


Oneiric

Oneric poem by Stephen Sinclair

They are going down now

to the streets, to the rivers, the beaches.

They leave their beds and their houses

to stream out into the open air

driven by what obscure impulse we cannot tell.

See how they stare at the pebbles in their hands

turning them in their palms, studying each facet

or stand together in close observation of a parking meter.

Is this the truth that dreams yield?

Is this the secret knowledge we all seek?

Tomorrow I will go to the library

I will borrow a different kind of book:

one on electrical circuitry

another on how to build kitset aeroplanes.


Tri

One may try
For joy and
Not see his

Own sad end.
Two can fly
All day and

Die. Add but
One and yea:
All our joy.


Moving Cities

A decade past
A small town
A hotel room
A glass of flat beer on the bedside table
Steam from the thermal baths
Seasons the night air
North an old city
Closes its borders
South the new
Winds me in with
Two hundred miles of tarseal
In the next room
An overnighting shearer
Keeps me awake with his
Stertorious whistle
Nothing in this room
Save memory and conjecture
Here at the axis of the island
Hills, roadsigns circle in the darkness.


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