A Week in Slovenia (Part 4 – From the Adriatic to the Alps)

 

1. On Piran Seafront

 

Ten thousand years of people stare

Off out to sea and feel its breath.

Ten thousand years of questioned souls

Who turn, and shrug, and build their worlds,

 

Those years are here within this point.

Entranced, we watch the fish and boats:

That silver dart, that bobbing float.

We are those generations now.

 

Then Trieste fades and Piran falls,

The bells un-ring and we are back.

The fish all hide, the sun is bright,

I hold your hand, we are alone.

 

The Adriatic Sea is blue:

It always is – is ever new.

 

 

2. When the Birds Fly Low

 

You see the point in being close:

An avalanche destroyed that house,

An earthquake took the town that day,

You closed your heart as war raged on,

 

You see the way the birds fly low.

You buy the cheese and share the bread.

A flock of alpine choughs descend:

They work as one, they fly as one.

 

As snow is creeping through the trees,

A dusting through Arolla Pine,

It brings its memories of times.

The birds fly down amongst the town.

 

You turn your back upon the cold.

You feed the birds and drink your fill.

 

 

3. Rainfall in the Julian Alps

 

The sun won’t break the clouds today.

The mountain crags have gathered rain,

The sparrows hide beneath the eaves,

The church bells echo hidden peaks.

 

The peace of circle patterned slates:

The point before the rivers form.

Within a pine a blackbird preens.

The air is still, the rain is clean.

 

A miracle has formed the sky.

Here in the sky, we are the sky.

The snowmelt cycles up, then through:

We breathe the ice of years gone by.

 

Within the clouds I see the sun.

Amidst the rainfall there is song.

 

 

4. Night in the Julian Alps

 

We do our best to kill the still

With street light, owl hoots, cow bells, cars.

We build and burn, we run and hide,

But up here nothing comes our way.

 

The mountain’s cold and silent depths,

The forest’s growth on rotten roots,

The haze which twinkles dying stars:

They are the silence we can’t dodge.

 

We think we are unique in this –

Us falcons, martens, humans, frogs –

Not caught in headlights: we freeze at night,

And stare into the mountain depths.

 

The long collective mass of life

Is just a tiny flick of light.

 

 

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11 Comments to “A Week in Slovenia (Part 4 – From the Adriatic to the Alps)”

  1. You’ve done it again! I’m going to have to copy these poems to my computer if I want to really enjoy them…

    • yep, sorry about that – it is partly because I see each section as a thematic whole, partly because I wanted to move on to another piece, and partly because I wrote thirty five poems in the week I was out there and didn’t want to fill everyone’s in-tray for days…

  2. These poems are remarkable…You have a truly unique voice and I have been enjoying the whole series. Reading each new poem I am living again in a time when listening to the tales of the storytellers was the anticipated entertainment. Wonderful!

  3. such a beautiful series… I feel as if I’ve traveled afar with you.

  4. very cool…read the first one the other day at P.U. and enjoyed this one as much…that small flicker of light…it is so brief, we should embrace it as you have your journey…rather liked the night in the alps, the mountains are where i retreat…

  5. I am enjoying the continuation of this series!! What an experience.

  6. Intense and delightful – makes me wonder what future poets will write about us some day…

  7. Oh wow I am really enjoying this series of poems amazing work! The new prompt is up if you are interested and available it is always a pleasure to have you

  8. Very nice poetry–especially about one of my favorite places ever. Thanks!

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