Weft's poems

Untitled poem by Weft
(7 Aug 2004? earlier?)

The pattern never ends. It weaves
A tapestry in stone and wood.
The canvas whole, no man perceives
And no-one said he should.

The dust, the sun, the falling leaves
A sequence neither bad nor good.
It little cares what man believes
Or if it's understood.

Confidence
4 Jan 2008

The moon slid airy fingers down my spine
As, sloping down, the city drooled and slept.
The knife, the night, the afterglow was mine
And homeward now, headquarterswards, I crept
Between two chimney-shadows, twisted, leapt
Balletically to land with fluid poise—
The tenor of a newly-trained adept,
No gawky awkward novice—not a noise.
I'm told each man becomes what he destroys,
That victim's sins in killer's soul find food,
That each dispatch he perpetrates—enjoys—
Will further warp a soul already skewed.
So take it as you will when I confide—
I love the night when someone's newly died.

---

Suppliant's Elegy
8/9 Feb 2008

You died. You died deserted and afraid,
The challenge from your eyes forever passed.
(Such glowing amber.) Desolate, betrayed,
You turned your swollen face towards the stone.
(Or did you seek my face until the last?
I couldn't look. I failed.) You died alone.

The city is in bloom today, my friend,
A honey moth alights upon my sleeve.
The bulbs we planted breathe their soothing blend.
My spirit's weak. Forgive me if I grieve.

You lived. Like none I'd ever met, you lived.
Each day was an adventure to be seized.
Each pleasure out of boredom swiftly sieved
And savoured (with that smile). You knew just where
The fun was. (And the trouble, when you pleased.)
Entangled to the hilt, you lived with flair.

"Be bold!" you used to say and clasp my hand
As plans we made to set the world aslant.
I've left undone those thousand things we planned.
"Be brave!"—oh grace—forgive me if I can't.

You spoke—and when you spoke the world stood still.
We drank your words. We had no conscious choice.
Your silken-steel oration sent a thrill
Along the most reluctant spine, and broke
The sturdiest defence. (I miss your voice.)
You held my senses hostage when you spoke.

There's music spilling out across the walk.
The blue-red lanterns burn still where they burnt.
I'd tell you, when you brought me here to talk,
"You're all my world." Forgive my lies. You weren't.

You listened. You'd the skill to listen well,
To make a person feel important, heard.
The ordinary folk had much to tell
And you'd the time (or thought you had) to chat.
You treated all as equals, undeterred.
You listened like a pro, I'll give you that.

Remember on this roof? We watched the sky
From spider-pink spin indigos and blacks.
All night you quizzed me, cherished each reply.
My voice is hoarse. Forgive me if it cracks.

You cared. You cared for truth and freedom. (Swell.)
I made you silken shirts. You made me yield.
"Admit deep down you're soft. You care as well."
I'd shrug. You'd scowl and tousle up my hair.
I'm not the sort of sap you thought concealed,
Not quite. For you, not freedom, did I care.

The city carries on and so must I.
(What more have I to give? What's left to prove?)
"Take heart," I know you'd tell me. "Live, defy."
My heart is yours. Forgive me if I love.