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Poems By Poet Tommy Stroller  11/26/2015 8:09:28 AM
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  TOMMY STROLLER (30.6.48)

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Winter Haiku

Haiku 1

Summer is so short

A white skirt left on the beach

Winter is so long

Haiku 2

The ice flowers on

the window pane. A flute plays

and the rising moon

Haiku 3

The seagull on its

perch pole above the water

Naked we slowly enter

Haiku 4

Porpoises leap and

breathe in the sound. The sauna

sweat on our bodies

Haiku 5

Long the shore the ice

cracks in the ferry`s wake. The

moon slides on darkness

Haiku 6

New Year - so many

rockets scream next day - old year's

rubbish fills the streets
Tommy Stroller



A Very Personal History

Bodies have histories

Eyes lie to one another

Even in mirrors

But history remains dug

Deep into every cell

Bodies strain to forget themselves

To join in dances too young for them

But the music of the song

Is in the piano notes of the genes

And we endlessly respond

Endlessly play the game,

And dance the dance,

Biology and memory conspiring

To deny themselves

Through each other
Tommy Stroller




We know the way so well
Every path, hill and curve
Of this country is like
A mnemonic for bitter love.

As the future
Has run out of fashions
And metaphors
We will make do
With the map of these bodies
And explore them
Indefinitely well
Tommy Stroller



The End Of The Road

We took our small rusting car
Over the quiet Prescelli foothills.
We had no destination
Except sleep and departure,
We merely kept faith
With the high crumbling spine
Of the quartz ridgetop,
Our route meandering
Through high tenantless villages,
The black glaze of rooftops
Slating the rain
Raw into broken gutters,
The tarmac giving out
Under it's strain.
We motored on west,
Now through great Gandalf forests
Always west, refusing
Every turn that threatened
To re-turn us home.

In a crease of the land
Lay a kind of battlefield - no more
Than leftovers from the
Foresters' pickings - a tangle
Of grass, mudworn tracks and
Ancient roots. Some people
Might have believed this was a holiday
But we came to find our end.
Why else camp
In that wet forest of leavings
At the back end of the season?
We were driven by
Our fate: attraction
Had nothing to do with it.

The night slid into the valley
Like a monstrous belly
Blunting the grim remainders
Of the light. The rain
Sparked and slithered over
The brown canvas whilst we
Hungrily devoured our reasons
To be missing.
Your voice rose with the wind
And began a storm of its own,
Slandering back and forth the
Broken and torn flag of our love
Until I would finally admit
The confirmation of our end.

Admitting nothing
Agreeing nothing
Seeing nothing
You broke free and crashed
Into the darkness.
As if your escape could cancel
My own, you ran across my outer night
And fell into your separate camp,
To which all of God's elements
Gladly joined you.

For once, after your battering,
I was calm in my preset decision:
Tomorrow was
Fin fine finale
Goodbye and goddam farewell.
I came for you, calling in the
Intestine dark, where sky & mud
Converged. It was only your
Hot panting breath
That betrayed you - sound
And vision lost, I touched
An arm, gripped a hand, wiped
Rain and mingled tears
On scalding cheeks.
I swung the whole weight of you,
The live carcass, out of
That temporary grave, the tender
Mud squirming between my fists.
Somehow I wrenched you
Back to our canvassed
Make-believe home.

In the darkness inside
You left out your anger,
You huddled like a small kitten for my warmth
Once I'd removed and stored
In their sphagetti mess
Your invisible clothes.
And all you could say the whole
Waking night
Over & over
Was: 'you came for me, why?
'Oh why did you come?
'You came to bring me back:
'The first time you've carried
'Me home.' But I couldn't tell you
That I'd called to save you
Only in the certainty of my going:
Love pretending in its leaving
To embrace what love no longer held.

We slept in a branching of the
Wind and slowly woke
To the nursing of the grey dawn.
I hung for hours there
Watching the drip drip drip
Of our life together
Falling away
Like dew from sun kissed rigging.

We tried following the sun's
Rise - a makeshift rambling crew
Rumple-eyed and sightless staring,
Packing the still damp tent.

We came with leaking baggage
To our ghost vehicle, looking
Incongrously misplaced, calm,
In the sullen forest surround.
But God decided to stall us
One last time; maybe he needed
One last achievement, a mark
Of our mutual learning,
Our mutual respect.
That previous night we'd rolled
The car so carelessly
Down the sloping track to
The field, but going up
In reverse the wheels slid,
Spinning tirelessly
On the mis-accumulations of the night's
Storm. Each took their turn
In the hopeless attempt at pilotage
Of a foiled escape, neither could
Make their way beyond halfway
To freedom. It was
A metaphor for our
Every past move.

And so we were forced together
To compose the method of our escape:
We toiled for hours to haul
The forest's humble leavings
Of root and branch, of grass and broom,
And wayside stones,
To place them over the muddied slope,
And build our final road, our stubborn track
To separation.
Tommy Stroller

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Poems By Poet Tommy Stroller