'Too Many Poets'

Key to authors' pseudonyms

The curve of a breast caught in a soft candlelight
A bead of bright sweat tongued from trembling lips white
A pin point of spark deep in soft eyes hooded
A hallowed blond with white ice shoulders shrouded

The view from the balcony
Across 1930s Madrid
It's still the same
I remember you fondly
Across the years that keep you hid
I never knew your name
And I remember that mysterious Gaelic accent
When I asked you, you said
"What's in a name"

The harsh spurt of blood dripped beauty on the snow
Slender fingers claw up at the sky below
A ragged black hole as puckered flesh erupts
Eyes aglow with life glare where death interrupts

The view from the old graveyard
Across 1990s Paris
It doesn't change
I remember you vaguely
Down the years that steal like a kiss
To know your name is strange
It doesn't match the memories I have retained
But as you'd once insist
What's in a name 

Procol Harum concerts in 2001: index page

Manchester: Palers' Convention

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