Poem By Richard George

My lowest ebb, that winter:
Breathing, tasting minus centigrade
I studied the sky's silent score.
I scoured the barren quarter
Under glittering Orion
For the tiny constellations
On the edge of the horizon,
Caelum, Columba
But in binoculars' grainy cast
All I saw were other people's windows.

Numb and sad, one evening
I caught through lacing sycamores
A small pinkish disc:
Elusive Mercury,
Following the sun down.

Kinder Spring scrolled new text up:
I scanned for the furthest northward grasp
Of another hemisphere's Centaur
In vain. But once,3 A.M.,
Sleepless, looking out by chance
Antares, in Scorpio:
Red beacon in a bracelet of stars
And back I stared, back, back
Five hundred years of light
To the centre of our galaxy

Before I was born.

Comments about 1982

I don't know that much astronomy, but you do give the feeling of excitement about it.

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Other poems of GEORGE

Eclipse: A Haiku Sequence

at first, sunlight changing; then
dusky, or faded,

A Walking Sadness

The Euston Road. April. Night.
Of all these London numberless
I love one:
my old shoes pound her name,

Halcyon And After

It was May or June, I met you:

Business, something or other.

Sylvia Plath's Cats

Their breath was clean, or harsh and sour
according to her moods:
and when they sensed a coming storm
they crept into corners.

Marie Celeste

Now I may never see you again
I can think of no one else:
I wait on platforms, hair in the wind
But trains all leave the past

7/7: Before And After

The dark young man
with the curls of the Maghreb
is in an altercation
with the ghost