Friday 22 February 2019

Thirteen ways of looking at an apple

Inspired by "Thirteen ways of looking at a blackbird" by Walace Stevens



Thirteen ways of looking at an apple

Genesis

The winter apple
waits in the metal tube
in the dark. It leaves
no trace.

Generous

In the bowl the apple, orange
and pear
are still life for the artist.

Gentile

Sharpness and sweetness
can co-exist.
The apple says so.

Genteel

Under a roof of pastry
the apples steam
and give scents of home.

Gentlemen

Beware the seeds of poison
growing in the apple core,
where the blackbird sings.

Genomes

The apple, bruised and rotten,
has not fallen far from the tree.
Forgotten windfall.

Gentle

In the barrel the apple hides
among many others. It feels safe
in the dark.

Genocide

The child laughs at the apple
in the pig's mouth
but the pig isn't laughing.

Generations

The apple's connection
to the branch is fragile.
When it parts
it briefly flies.

Genuflect

The orchards are green
and lustrous -  I shelter
from the soft rain and, kneeling,
take an unripe apple.

Generic

The blacksmith's arm
swings. He is sweating
and each blow trembles
the apples in his tree.

Genius

Silver, shining apple.
A bite taken, but
I want you, I need you.

Genders

In the beginning
the man and the woman were one.
The man, the woman and the apple
were one.

Tim Fellows 2019

Friday 15 February 2019

Today

For my lovely wife Fiona.

Today

Today was the day the sun shone brighter
reflected light on clear glass waltzing
Today was the day the grass grew greener
morning dewdrops gently smiling

Today was the day the planets sang,
straying from their path, aligning.
Today was the day the trees all flowered
though outside it is December

Today was the day the walls all crumbled
the ground beneath us quietly trembling
Today was the day the sky was bluer
filled with swooping murmurations

Today was the day when life restarted
born like mewling lambs in springtime
Today was the day
that I met you.

Tim Fellows 14 Feb 2019

Friday 8 February 2019

The River

I wrote the first draft of this at one of Ian Parks' Peace Workshops in 2018. This is for him in honour of his upcoming 60th birthday with thanks for all the help and advice.




The River

In future times when struggles past
have faded into history
the silence of the rusted guns
lifts us to the mountain top
where, trickling down through purple rocks,
the melting snow
forms rivulets both clear and pure
that merge and grow -
a delicate, determined stream
cascading to the land below
where the river roars and foams
and flows with currents deep and fast.

(c) Tim Fellows 2019

Friday 1 February 2019

Plastic Cup Of Coffee



Plastic Cup of Coffee

You've got a plastic cup of coffee
in a plastic coffee cup.
Mobile phone in one hand
you try to take a sip -
your skinny caramel latte
is a little bit too hot
so by the time you've finished it
you haven't really got
time to find a waste bin
and you don't give a shit
so you drop it on the pavement -
someone else will pick it up -
you've had your plastic cup of coffee
in its plastic coffee cup.

Plastic straws, plastic bags,
plastic wrapping on your veg,
What happened to brown paper?
Do you have a grudge
against this world that feeds us
and the creatures of the sea?
"Dump it in the landfill,
it's nowhere near me!"
So when the earth is choking
and we've all given up
remember your plastic cup of coffee
in it's fucking Costa Starbucks Nero
McFucking plastic coffee cup.

Tim Fellows 2018

The Colours of Her Skirt

Based on a memory, which may be unreliable, from some time in the 1960s.  With thanks to Sarah Wimbush and Ian Parks for editing and for the...