This week I published two books, which are available on Amazon and through Devizes Books
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The first, ‘Smoke and Roses’ is saucy, serious, and sweet, and the second, ‘Takin’ the Pith’, does exactly what it says on the tin.
I guess that ‘Smoke and Roses’ is my mythology.
Both contain poems and prose in different forms, and the language is edgy in both.
There will be some content that you have not read.
I hope you like them.
Thank you so much for your interest.
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Gail
On Radio 4 this morning, plastic fivers…
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So, money doesn’t grow on trees no more
For some of us it never really did
The rich grow ever richer, and the poor
Still grovel for a poxy flippin’ quid
The launderers shall rub their hands with glee
‘Tis easy now to wipe clean, and to wash
The dirty money in the treasury
The grime of crime from shiny plastic dosh
Old money will still glint of ancient gold
New money will still boast itself and flash
And diamonds shine, and lead be dark and cold
As ever was, the alchemy of cash
The chemistry of lucre is not strange
The rich stay rich, and for the poor, no change
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© Gail Foster 13th September 2016
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Beware, for she writes poetry, and ye
Unwitting pilgrim, may become a king
Anointed at the new moon, in the spring
Within an oestrogen mythology
Take care, for she writes poetry, and thee
Good man, may move her blood and heart to sing
Be crowned with oak leaves, bound within the ring
Become her ovulation fantasy
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She fair may be, but subject to the pull
Of hormones, gravity, and tidal flow
She makes her heroes, though unconsciously
From those who touch her when the moon is full
She’ll cry and tear her hair out when you go
And pen progesterone tragedy
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© Gail Foster 7th September 2016
Every year, during Carnival in Devizes, we have a Confetti Battle…
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We dance in town, as bright confetti falls
Upon our hallowed ground, we move as one
The old and young among the market stalls
All blessed by Ceres and the setting sun
We move as one, we laugh, we catch the light
In coloured flickers deep within our eyes
A cloud of happiness, a merry flight
Of beautiful beribboned butterflies
We dance in town, bedecked like bridesmaids gay
Our hair all strewn with prettiness and joy
Our cares for one brief moment blown away
We move as one, man, woman, girl and boy
As, blessed by Ceres in her wedding gown
We all, as one, are married to our town
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Sonnet and photograph of Kirstine Carr
© Gail Foster 2016
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Is this then all there is now, only me
And all there is now left for me to do
Cry ‘mercy’ to the unforgiving sea
And bury all the love I had for you
Beneath the sorry roses in the shade
Of yew trees, in the graveyard, by the wall
Let tenderness and fondest feelings fade
Until the day there is no you at all
Within my mirror, only empty sky
And tumbleweed across the arid ground
No answer to the question of my cry
Just silence; oh my love, in you I found
A heat too sweet and gentle to forget
Have mercy on me, love, don’t leave me yet
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© Gail Foster 2016
If I had known that he cared not for me
I would have dropped him, like a burning stone
Too blinded I, by silly love, to see
The hatred that he bore me to the bone
If I had seen beyond his wit, and charm
I could have passed him by upon the street
Protected heart from hurt, and pride from harm
Refrained from falling, fawning, at his feet
I should have sensed the loathing in his touch
The cold resentment in his blood and bile
Too lost was I, in silly love, too much
To see the silent scorn behind his smile
Now he is gone, and I shall ever be
Astounded by the hate he felt for me
by Gail
Inspired by the writings of Raymond John Burt…
Here speaks the magic work of Raymond John
Intrigue in reference, delight in phrase
I’m curious as to what, my friend, you’re on
That powers your pen to so the mind amaze
Let he that has an ear be still and hear
Let she who has an eye seek out the light
For here some crazy wisdom doth appear
On wild wings of angels in the night
For Love and God and Death and Grace and Hell
Within your words take buttered toast and tea
More syllabub, Beelzebub? Pray tell
What syllables might set the Sibyls free
Get thee behind me, ghosts, take flight, be gone!
Here speaks the magic work of Raymond John
© Gail from Devizes 2016
Knock, knock, who’s there, and art thou friend or foe?
Why knockest thou at this ungodly hour?
I am the Light, whose face and word you know
I bring you sheaves of blossom trees in flower
So many moons have passed since we last met
How shall I know that it is really you?
I am the Light no darkness can forget
I bring you skies of bright and endless blue
Why comest thou, now I am nearly old
With fainting faith and blood flow slow and dry?
I am the Light, returning as foretold
I bring you Life, to raise you true and high
How glad am I, to see you at my door
Come, cast your crazy sunbeams on my floor
by Gail
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The air is rarified up on the fence
As clear as far as watered eye can see
All silken blue, all glittered light intense
Translucent fathoms of infinity
Way down below, a long stone’s drop away
Through depths of fog and lazy clouded streams
The land lies; half in shadow, half in day
Divided by the fence in two extremes
New womb from yearning grave, dark black from white
The right from left, cool blue from burning red
Each country hidden from the other’s sight
Like crazy virgins doomed to never wed;
The angel of the fence can only pray
Don’t send me down there now, Lord, not today
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by Gail
Should we view images of death and evil in the media?
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Brutal truth; how dare you burn our eyes
How dare you mark our quiet hearts with pain
Our gentle ears are deafened with your cries
Our worlds will never be the same again
Brutal truth; without you we deny
Ourselves, our fear, the part we have to play
So shine your fierce searchlight from the sky
Force in to form the shadows of the day
Brutal truth; unchain our memory
And rend the veil that shrouds a lie from sight
The evolution of humanity
Is in your hands; stir us to flight or fight
To know ourselves and know our enemy
Shifting deserts, oceans flowing free
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by Gail
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