Poetry from Marc Mordey
| MARC MORDEY WRITES: POEMS OFTEN BREW WITHIN ME FOR DAYS, SOMETIMES WEEKS, AND ESPECIALLY WHEN I AM WALKING ON CARNINGLI. THEN, SOMETIMES, THEY COME TO THE BOIL. ONE IS MADE TODAY, FOLLOWING THE NEWS OF THE DEATH OF AN AUNT (March 2021). COVID 19 HAS, THUS FAR, TAKEN THE LIVES OF WELL OVER 2.5 MILLION PEOPLE. STALIN IS OFTEN QUOTED AS HAVING SAID: “ONE DEATH IS A TRAGEDY. A MILLION DEATHS IS A STATISTIC.” THIS POEM IS FOR EVERYONE WHO HAS SUFFERED LOSS – DIRECTLY OR OTHERWISE – TO THE RAVAGES OF THE PANDEMIC… MOTHERS, FATHERS, BROTHERS, SISTERS, CHILDREN, GRANDPARENTS, UNCLES, AUNTS, FRIENDS. EMPTY SPACES Dedicated to Dot (Dorothy) and Harry Mordey please remember them Across the world, Empty spaces… A silhouette no longer framed on the Savannah In Wyoming, a horse remains unsaddled Red dirt unbroken in a Senegalese plot A Russian doll that won’t be dissembled A Spanish hacienda deserted An Italian meal untasted In Japan a temple flag is unobserved An ice hole, unfished A desert tent, entrance unused A rice field abandoned A new crop not to be harvested A quilt unfinished Families, diminished. The favoured seat in the pub abandoned now. A classic car, unfired. A paddle board beached. Knitting unravelled. A tractor untended. A camera shuttered. A guitar untuned. A song unsung. A bed unmade. A bycicle rusting. A dog forlorn. A doll abandoned. A spinning wheel, not turning. A pen no longer picked up. A spade, rusting in a cobwebbed greenhouse. A boat, sails stowed, bobs alone on the estuary. Clothes are folded away, no longer needed. Books, never to be read Dreams unfulfilled Puzzles that no longer perplex Letters never sent An empty seat in a synagogue An empty pew in the Chapel A prayer mat in the mosque stays folded The graveyards fat with memories. Grass grows untended A tweed jacket hangs forlorn Flowers fail Broken items that would have been mended A driving lesson not given A telephone call no longer to be expected Empty beds Empty sofas Empty rooms Empty wardrobes Empty chairs Loved ones lost To everyone Everywhere “I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there’s no room for the present at all.” (Brideshead Revisited) |
Marc and his wife have lived in West Wales since April 2005. Besides Marc’s involvement with the charitable and public sectors, he has a keen interest in creative pursuits, and has two collections of poetry: Rewarded by Dolphins and Marcism Today. His says his poems are inspired by his relationship with his wife, Helen Carey (a successful novelist), the landscapes they have lived in recently, and their many travels around the world.
