Thread by @TomLondon6

#UKIsolatepoem 56

The article below by Arundhati Roy is not a poem but I include it in this series of poems I am tweeting daily during the lockdown, because it is the best piece of prose I have read on the pandemic.

It covers India, also the US, also global issues

Do read...

https://twitter.com/TomLondon6/status/1261926101942767617

#UKIsolatepoem 57

English Girl Eats Her First Mango by John Agard

If I did tell she

hold this gold

of sundizzy

tonguelicking juicy

mouthwater flow

ripe with love

from the tropics

she woulda tell me

trust you to be

melodramatic

so I just say

taste this mango
1/?

and I watch she hold

the smooth cheeks

of the mango

blushing yellow

and a glow

rush to she own cheeks

and she ask me

what do I know

just bite into it?

and I was tempted

to tell she

why not be a devil

and eat of the skin

of the original sin

2/?

but she woulda tell me

trust you to be

mysterious

so I would just say

it’s up to you

if you want to peel it

and I watch she feels it

as something precious

then she smile and say

looks delicious

3/?

and I tell she

don’t waste sweet words

when she sweetness

in your hand

just bite it man

peel it with the teeth

that God gave you

or better yet

do like me mother

used to do

and squeeze

till the flesh

turns syrup

nibble a hole

then suck the gold

4/?

like bubby

in child mouth

squeeze and tease out

every drop of spice

sounds nice

me friend tell me

and I remind she that ain’t

apple core

so don’t forget

the seed

suck that too

the sweetest part

the juice does run

down to your heart

5/?

man if you see

the English rose

she face was bliss

down to the pink

of she toes

and when she finish

she smile

and turn to me

lend me your hanky

my fingers are all sticky

with mango juice

and I had to tell she

what hanky

you talking about

you don’t know

6/?

when you eat mango

you hanky

is you tongue

man just lick

your finger

you call that

culture

unless you prefer

to call it

colonization

in reverse

THE END

#UKIsolatepoem 58

The Republic of Poetry by Martín Espada
For Chile

In the republic of poetry,
a train full of poets
rolls south in the rain
as plum trees rock
and horses kick the air,
and village bands
parade down the aisle
with trumpets, with bowler hats,

1/?

followed by the president
of the republic,
shaking every hand.

In the republic of poetry,
monks print verses about the night
on boxes of monastery chocolate,
kitchens in restaurants
use odes for recipes
from eel to artichoke,
and poets eat for free.

2/?

In the republic of poetry,
poets read to the baboons
at the zoo, and all the primates,
poets and baboons alike, scream for joy.

In the republic of poetry,
poets rent a helicopter
to bombard the national palace
with poems on bookmarks,
and everyone in the courtyard

3/4

rushes to grab a poem
fluttering from the sky,
blinded by weeping.

In the republic of poetry,
the guard at the airport
will not allow you to leave the country
until you declaim a poem for her
and she says *Ah! Beautiful*.

THE END

#UKIsolatepoem 60
As I Walked Out One Evening by WH Auden

As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.
And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
‘Love has no ending
1/

‘I’ll love you, dear, I’ll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,
‘I’ll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.

2/?

‘The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world.’
But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
‘O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.
‘In the burrows of the Nightmare

3/?

Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.
‘In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.
‘Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances

4/?

And the diver’s brilliant bow.
‘O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you’ve missed.
‘The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens

5/?

A lane to the land of the dead.
‘Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.
‘O look, look in the mirror?
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing

6/?

Although you cannot bless.
‘O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.’
It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on.

END