Michael Jennings

Calling?

So close once – now I don’t know where you are.
Bonds that seemed so strong dissolved
by always leaving you until tomorrow.
Do you sometimes give me a thought?
occasionally resurrect old times,
each thought of me spaced longer
than the time before – a week, a month, a year?
And then today … It was the letter falling on the mat;
for a second it seemed to bear your handwriting.
The brief flutter of the heart was quickly stilled,
but in that moment I saw your face now no longer young;
your hair grey, your face lined, your eyes deep with mystery.
Was that mistaken glimpse of mine a prompt?
Could you be suffering and be needing my prayers?

Michael Jennings is an ex-cartographer, ex-teacher and failed novelist who became a Catholic in 1980 after twenty years of dithering. His poetry has been published in Acumen.

Emmaline O’Dowd

O, meine Herren!

This lady’s a rare plant, an exotic parasitic – oh but the
flowers,
meine Herren, the adornments –

the plunging back, the swaying hips,
the cigarette holder at her lips,
the cocktail glass where the cherry dips…

She follows fashion to the letter,
but she’ll always go one better,
out-Harlow Jean, out-Garbo Greta…

O, meine Herren!

This lady’s made of steel and gemstone – oh but the
sparkle,
meine Herren, the enticements –

the challenge of that painted pout,
the languorous lids that leave no doubt
she knows for sure what she’s about…

So much glamour, so much glitz –
the way she stands, the way she sits,
the way that clinging bodice fits…

O, meine Herren!

This lady’s a risker, a chancer, dancing close to the brink –
oh but the poise,
meine Herren, the deportment –

there’s just nothing you can tell this
mistress of the tilted pelvis –
her assets are what she herself is…

Though you might do your best to lure her,
don’t imagine you’ll secure her –
she won’t stop till she’s reached the Führer…

O, meine Herren!

Emmaline O’Dowd, former violin and piano teacher, is a member of Derby City Poets and has had work in various magazines over the years, as well as in the Quaker anthology ‘A speaking silence’.

 

Nikolay Gumilev

War

Like a dog on a chain the machine-gun
Barks out from beyond the wood;
Splinters of shrapnel are buzzing
Like bees as they forage for food.

And that distant ‘Hurrah’, like the song of
The reapers, might tempt you to say
That this is some peaceful village
At the end of a fruitful day.

And in truth, the majestic work of
War is so holy and good
You’d think that behind each warrior
A bright-winged angel stood.

Then bless this day the labourers
As they slowly proceed, oh Lord,
To reap a harvest of glory
From fields which they’ve soaked with blood.

Before you, like those who labour
In sorrow and prayer at the plough,
As luminous as waxen candles,
The hearts of the soldiers glow.

But remember, oh Lord, to grant victory
To the one who before the end
Says to the fallen enemy:
‘Receive this kiss from a friend.’
1914

Translated from the Russian by Stephen Capus

Nikolay Stepanovich Gumilyov was an influential Russian poet, literary critic, traveler, and military officer. He was a cofounder of the Acmeist movement. He was arrested and executed by the Cheka, the secret Soviet police force, in 1921.

Stephen Capus studied Russian at the University of Birmingham and the School of Slavonic and East European Studies in London. He has published poems, translations and articles in various magazines. A number of his translations were featured in the Penguin Book of Russian Poetry, published in 2015.

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