Author Archives: Paul Christopher Walton

Pavane in D Minor

13 Tuesday May 2014

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For Andy and for all who loved him and his music.

It’s just like when someone

Leaves the party before you,

And bereft you stand, the words

You’ve always wanted to say,

Rehearsed but still enveloped,

Inside your head.

 

Or when that friend who joined

Your trip to manhood, and you

Choose diverging roads,

And as he leaves, you hear

That minor third, and fear

What-if you’ll lose sight

Across the miles or years

of forever?

 

But more for me it’s like

A loop that never ends,

Of Paradise Lost and Found but Lost again

As he who made your words soar

And touch the sweet spot of tragic happiness

Has left us,

Has left us,

Has left us with that music.

 

Close to Cold

08 Thursday May 2014

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Close to Cold

We were at the base of the staircase and walked the corridor gloom into the sepulchre. Glints of frost flickered in the stones, our eyes scanning. This was the moment the Professor had warned us about, when our resolve would be tested. Without question we had the knowledge, and thanks to him we had the kit. Even so, I looked down into my canvas bag, our eyes were still shifting between the darkness and each other, the cumulus of our breath emanating like ectoplasm. There it was. We had found it: a monolith, horizontal and menacing. We walked towards it. We felt its chill that threatened a cold that bites and burns. Behind us, a voice, understated but taunting:

‘Gentlemen, thank you for joining us.’

Then light filled the room with faces we knew. The Coors Stag weekend had begun.

Poems of Place: Molineux

06 Tuesday May 2014

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The clapping, tapping

Recitatives and zoots sound

Above the velour green chequerboard,

Full canopied by old gold and black.

This is a data-shed of shared memory

Of growing up

Or growing old,

Of breaking up or making up,

Of victory or defeat,

Of almost and nearly,

The boot and leather,

The nylon whoosh of air

The whistle and a roar,

A growing roar,

A crumpled roar,

A triumphant roar!

Champions now,

The hi-res jackets file out to witness the South Bank

And its noisy communion of sweet reward.

Replenished and recharged now,

The golden core glows bright once more.

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Why The Music Sounds

01 Thursday May 2014

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The complex rhythm of life plays hard

And disappoints as much as it beguiles,

Or brings a sadness and only fleeting happiness to those

Who trip its accidentals.

But sometimes that music,

Streamed from gifted heads,

Captured and then scored

Has the magic to transform

Even bleakest moments,

To reverse the curse of time

And in its sweet progressions

Bring triumph over pain.

 

For we, in whom the sadness now abounds,

Well understand just why the music sounds.

 

Modern Vintage

24 Thursday Apr 2014

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For Cath Kidston and Becky

 

Cath Kidston

Kept her mitts on

To pluck rose petals

To stick on kettles.

She knew her chicks

Would love a mix

Of something borrowed,

Something blue,

Something old and something new.

Modern Vintage

Or cozy printage?

Real fashion hints

Or death by chintz?

O, Cath Kidston

You made real quids on

How you’re smuggage

By flogging luggage!

Oh ya…..

 

 

Songs: Flatterers Meet

23 Wednesday Apr 2014

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Your words just failed to rally me,

(though I admit it was a near thing)

The rain just dissolved them

But such things happen

When flatterers meet

 

Your tricks have stopped amusing me

Though it’s true you do try hard

I can’t compete with flattery

Lest you catch me

Off my guard

 

You’re far too smart

For your own good

Thought I suppose

You’d disagree

To fight the world is easy

But you try fighting me

 

New Inn Hall Street

Hilary, 1976

Songs: All We All Enjoyed

16 Wednesday Apr 2014

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Farewell the summer did you say?

So factually? Without a thought for they

Who love you?

Tell me you don’t mean to lose

All we all enjoyed.

 

Farewell to gown and books today,

Put pen and ink and me away?

No more

The life of learning’s passion that

All we all enjoyed

 

Should the things that were us two

Fall into some void,

Abandoned empty skins of former lives?

I know a terminal urge grows

Within you now.

I must not need you

Till I don’t know how.

 

Farewell the vanguard of the day

My hand stumbles nervously on its way

Upon your brow,

Tell me you did not mean to lose

All we all enjoyed?

 

An A to Z of Provenance

11 Friday Apr 2014

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A Arbroath Smokies, Aberdeen Angus, Amalfi Lemons, Asti

B Bakewell Tart, Black Forest Gateaux, Baked Alaska, Buffalo Wings

C Cornish Pasties

D Dublin Bay Prawns, Dundee Cake

E Eccles Cakes

F Frankfurter

G Gouda

H Hildon Water

I Idaho Red

J Jersey Royals, Jaffa Cakes, Jarlsberg

K Kentucky Fried Chicken, Kendal Mint Cake, Key Lime, Chicken Kiev

L Lancashire Hot Pot

M Melton Mowbray Pie, Madras Curry

N New England Chowder, Salade Niçoise

O Oxford Blue

P Parma ham, Pilsener, Philadelphia Cheesecake

Q Quiche Lorraine

R Roquefort

S Sisteron Lamb, Sancerre

T Turkish Delight

U Ulster Fry

V Vougeot

W Wensleydale

X Xeres

Y Yorkshire Pudding

Z Zamarano