Sunday, February 15, 2009



Peppermint Aero Chutney

It was a fortunate misreading
the kind that over-rides the first
dull meaning in a magazine:

four tigers in a frame.
I see them painted by Rousseau.
One gate at least hangs open:

There's a barrier, ten foot tall,
of dull wood painted green,
where the flowers and pathways were.

The overwriting hand is poised.
I think of William Blake,
his birthplace up the concrete steps.

There's an old VW convertible
that often parks round there,
yellow as a plastic bee.

No shop front that I pass
and pass again is ever the same:
blue as surreal ceramic.

Why does latte come out black?
With spikes up close, they look
bigger than church steeples.

A lemon nestles among the apples.
Being very sorry, or just being...
Acting up or just acting...

5 comments:

Dave King said...

That is a great poem. I really enjoyed it and will be reading it another couple of times at least.

Lucas said...

Really pleased you enjoyed this one, Dave. Hope it stands up to a second reading. Thanks for your comment.

Plutarch said...

A beguiling rhythm that inveigles you to follow the sequence of images and makes them all the more memorable and meanningful.

Lucy said...

The title shocked me a little, a slightly queasy combination! It sets the tone, though, for such a meli-melo of vivid things. It's rather fun.

(Oddly, that combination of apple and lemon came up somewhere else in my reading this morning, someone saying they were picking up their Apple computer from a place called the Lemon Tree, and she felt like writing a song about it...)

Lucas said...

Picking up the Apple from the Lemon Tree - there's definitely a song there! Thanks, Lucy!