Poems 8 | gisellemarks

Passports

I need to get the form for a new passport today.

Why, you may ask, are you planning to go away?

I haven’t had a passport for many years

I don’t like to travel but I have no real fears

Of far-away places, just of getting there

I don’t like to sit cramped in my chair

I hate packing my bags deciding what to wear

I hate bleeping the machines at security

When I wish to vanish into obscurity

Instead of being frisked by some strange old dear!

I have three replacement joints so the machine

will go off

As everyone stares, I have a sudden need to cough

So am I planning to go all through that again?

Am I hoping for a holiday to sunny Spain?

No money spare for any trip this year,

Prices of holidays for me are far too dear.

So why do I need a passport you may well ask

Why waste money on such a pointless task?

Because the Yanks insist I send it so that I

Some ISBN numbers I’ll be allowed to buy!

They say in must be in my real name,

So no Giselle Marks Author, ain’t that a shame!

But it will say novelist and writer this time

My last said Company Director which was true

Let the passport office on that change chew!

So I really am going to have some photos taken

I am still British, Manx resident don’t be mistaken

I am not applying Stacy to be Jamaican.

But if the Arab ladies can wear a full burka

Why shouldn’t I dress up in proper purdah?

Or in Regency apparel make my appearance

Truthfully I’d rather not have this interference

From officialdom in my life, I don’t like forms.

I have never really conformed to the norms

Of living at high speed in the modern world.

But I know that I must give in and submit

Find documents that will admit

Me to the American’s club, give them information

Confirming that I belong to this nation.

Perhaps then they will let me travel in my books

To the past, to the future, I wonder how it looks?

To Zenina where I spend so much time

And then on hyperbole I will climb

Perhaps I may even earn some dosh

From my stories and then I might squash

Myself in an airline seat and fly,

Perhaps see the world and die?

Lichenometry

Lichens, never sure how it should be said?

Is it Likens or Lychens, does it matter?

They live a long time but pollution knocks them dead

They are pretty, tiny and look like a splatter

Of paint on wood and stone.

A combination that has scientists bemused

Funghi and photobiont symbiotically linked

Centuries of quiet existence being abused

They replace soil is the most succinct

Explanation of what is known.

Growing in exquisite minute designs

Part of God’s great undertaking

Do we even notice it declines?

Does the mess that we are making

Of the world raise a groan?

The flora and fauna of the Earth

Woke to make it a wonderful place

Somewhere beautiful to give birth

But Lichen hasn’t got a face

When it dies, can we atone?

Covers

I used to be artistic but decided to write instead

So why do I tear my hair when I should be in my bed.

The books are written, proof read and now they need to fly

Out to the big old world for people to read and buy!

It’s choosing what should go on the front

How do I explain, oh well let me be blunt!

I don’t like most of the modern book covers

That show photo-shopped embracing lovers.

I’ve looked and looked at stock pics

But I can’t imagine them in the mix.

My friend has done some lovely art work

But it makes me feel such a jerk

To tell her it won’t go with the book I’ve writ

I’ll know when a picture will or will not fit

I was trying to get something that would be plain

But she’s done what I wanted, yet I can’t explain

Why it will not do. Somehow is looks too youthful

But the book is adult, so I have to be truthful

And say we have to begin again

So now you have heard my refrain

My lament at not realising I should have learned

The modern graphics I had spurned!

Flowers Talk

I knew flowers had a language so today I thought I’d look

Mainly so I could get it right when I write a Regency book

But I found so much it made my mind boggle

That it seemed a lot of Hornswoggle!

So what did I learn about the words each blossom imparts

Red roses declare your passion, a meeting of raunchy hearts

But choose another colour and the meaning goes astray

So be very careful what it is you want to say!

Send pale pink and white and your love is true

But the yellow rose of Texas is definitely another hue

Infidelity is suggested so perhaps this is not for you!

Carnations are worn in every wedding button hole

A bloom of pretty ruffled frills, Fascination in a bowl.

Again their colour matters, white, pink and red

Are safe if love and affection are in your head

Yet purple and yellow are a no go if you wish to wed!

And striped is worse because you declare

I refuse to answer your fervent prayer.

There are so many meanings that I never guessed

Their translation can be so easily messed.

So if I make a bouquet for my friend to wear

Of wild flowers I must be careful and beware

Daisies are fine for they suggest innocent hope

But Tansy is hostile thoughts given scope

Anemone and you I will each other forsake

Columbine you must never make

A part, for you imply a cuckold’s horns

A sprig of Larkspur of levity warns

And Lavender could mean lack of trust

Or devoted love, so that’s a bust!

Mystic Mist

Mannanan son of Lir has woven his magic brought the mist

The Isle now blanketed, with a single flourish of his wrist

No birds cry out in shrouds of bandaging white

The sun cannot reach through and is lost from sight.

Houses, cars, roads, people, all have vanished

Sounds are muffled, the island banished

Into fae, as Mannanan shields us from the day.

Five nations should be seen,

From Snaefell’s pinnacle

Surrounded by a sea of green

Now none are visible.

All the land that is in sight

Is draped with air of ghostly white

Sight and sound are locked away

Now we are descending into fae.

If fairies danced right in front of me,

I would not doubt what I did see.

But beg to be allowed to follow

To dance along, risking no tomorrow

Let the magic drag me far within

The dance would swirl me in a spin

Of time passing Oh so slow

I would follow I would go.

I would leave this plodding world behind

Treading a measure with fairy kind

Family, friends I don’t even wave farewell

Knowing fae will sound out my death knell

Yet I have no desire to fight

Or hide from those fairies’ sight.

To enter fae and know it’s real

To see, to touch, to hear, to feel

Even though I will never return

To tell the world what I have learned.

Wave your magic over me today

Or let the sun brightly burn away

Your foggy mist and leave the Isle

To bask is sunshine for a while.

If your magic is that strong

Let me hear the music of your song.

Or flee foul God back where you belong

You must accept that it is wrong

Of you to bring the magic of the past

Into the future, let this be the last

Time you veil our glorious land

With the magic you have fanned

Making us desire your mystic skill

Tingling our skin with imagined thrill