{"id":988,"date":"2017-01-30T18:17:04","date_gmt":"2017-01-30T18:17:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/olioweb.me.uk\/wordpress_marcus\/?page_id=988"},"modified":"2024-08-19T14:45:48","modified_gmt":"2024-08-19T14:45:48","slug":"poems-of-the-month-february-2017-from-pays-basque","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.olioweb.me.uk\/marcus\/?page_id=988","title":{"rendered":"Poems of the Month, February 2017: from ‘Pays Basque’"},"content":{"rendered":"

Pays Basque<\/strong>, a collection of new works, will be published later this year. It centres on Marcus’ Christmas holiday in South West France and will be the 7th in a series of Shin Buddhist A4 booklets published by The Paper Tiger.<\/p>\n

Here are three sample texts:<\/p>\n

\n

SAINT JEAN DE LUZ
\n<\/strong>where Aunt Diana married Jorge in 1937
\n<\/em>after escaping from the Spanish Civil War<\/em><\/p>\n

Motorway to Spain.
\nPyrenees in the background.
\nNeither sun nor rain.<\/p>\n

San Juan de Luz.
\nThe light is grey.
\nSo are the pigeons.<\/p>\n

Half a baguette –
\none starving pigeon
\npecks at the crust.<\/p>\n

Drastically cut back,
\nbranches with tightly clenched fists
\nmenace the rooftops.<\/p>\n

Big Basque Buildings
\non the road to the beach –
\na sheltered crescent of sand.<\/p>\n

A small square, buried
\nin straw. A donkey and lambs
\nstare at the children.<\/p>\n

The Basques didn’t learn
\nto dance in this dismal church.
\nCandle-lit virgins.<\/p>\n

Picturesque houses!
\nTouristically we wander
\nthrough traffic-free streets.<\/p>\n

Painted balconies
\nand shutters, on quaint structures
\nleft behind by time.<\/p>\n

The chocolate tea-room
\nwith local delicacies
\nappealed to us all.<\/p>\n

Filled with pastries
\nand liquid nourishment
\nwe made our way to the cars.<\/p>\n

These twelve photographs
\nare proof of our visit
\nto Saint Jean de Luz.<\/p>\n

\n

BAYONNE & BIARRITZ<\/strong><\/p>\n

With her cathedral and her bridges,
\nwhere Grandpa kept his boat.<\/p>\n

A tempting tea-room.
\nScores of appetizing tarts
\nfor everyone’s taste.<\/p>\n

A maze of narrow streets –
\nancient buildings above,
\nsmart boutiques below.<\/p>\n

The sound of the sea
\nin our ears. A strange city
\nwith Venus watching.<\/p>\n

Biarritz. The church front
\nconstantly changing colours.
\nChildren on the ground.<\/p>\n

Unreal city!
\nMagical decorations!
\nFun for everyone!<\/p>\n

Bright lights everywhere.
\nLanterns hanging from the trees.
\nA photograph, please!<\/p>\n

\n

VISIT TO MENDIONDE
\n<\/strong>to meet Jo, Emmanuelle, Sylvain, Jules, <\/em>Colombe and 94 year-old Loulou.<\/em><\/p>\n

Pleasant rolling fields,
\nwinter trees caught in sunlight.
\nBasque country ahead.<\/p>\n

Family and friends.
\nA table in the sunshine.
\nBald bearded waiter.<\/p>\n

Gently rounded hills,
\ngreen breasts of Mother Nature.
\nEmmanuelle’s car.<\/p>\n

My sacr’d Buddhist mantra
\nsoftly whispered
\nto the distant mountains.<\/p>\n

Enjoying the sun –
\ncattle in the rich meadows,
\nobedient sheep.<\/p>\n

Kicking crisp dead leaves
\nwe plough through an afternoon
\nof wooded valleys.<\/p>\n

Sunlight in our eyes –
\nwe peer at the muddy path
\nin front of our feet.<\/p>\n

We heard the river –
\nit sounded like an avalanche
\nof autumn leaves.<\/p>\n

The brown of her eyes,
\nwhen she spoke to me, shone like
\nOctober chestnuts.<\/p>\n

Village at sunset –
\na dense cloud of orange smoke
\nenvelops the roofs.<\/p>\n

Steep winding hilly lanes
\nin and out of sunshine –
\nloudly bleating sheep.<\/p>\n

In the old farmhouse
\na lady of ninety-four
\nmakes tea for us all.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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