Poems - JP Melville

                            Fi - In Search Of A Missing Note A Trilogy In Three Parts   Love Faith Life No longer in print. Only web version for now. email: jpmlvll (at) gmail.com  

Fi - In Search of A Missing Note Something happening Fi I couldn’t take you any where But where you’re gonna go Déja vu Some where when rising sun comes And sweat our skin shows Colour of love I move with you again dawn yellow sun Don’t let the night forget that I was there Cause I came when the horses called And riding through I’ll be there when again Again our sweat says here That God calls its really all okay Cause all you take you took from me and more… I’m okay let’s move rock on Women work and men fall back Let’s dance around a pole of history Cause baby Fi you’re the ride And ride I will Carry me through mountains thorns drop me leave me I’m ok bled… Love’s a ride and maybe Weyburn Reference to the world crowd That damn I’m from the bush and I’ve the guts to ride your plain… Babe she says I’m a ride your gonna ‘fraid to take Girls gals ain’t nothing near what that pop girl says Says hey… donwannabrakson...

Sorry: When A Man’s His Dog & Dawn 5 May 2020 jp All’s well with the world when a man’s his dog and dawn Waking at his bedside A garden to tend Obliged to listen to the tac-tac-tac-tac of pileated woodpecker. So sorry for the suffering arising I’ve caused When I reach out to love My touch a poisoned compassion. So sorry. So sorry, so many times I’ve begun to forget. Funny how, still… All’s well with the world when a man’s his dog and dawn Waking at his bedside.

If There Was One Thing I Want To Say jp melville 1 april 2020 If there was one thing I want to say....

Valentine's jp melville february 2020

I Met You 2020 jp melville I met you upon a platform nowhere here one day… Neither yours nor my train nor station But there I you we were was… On platforms not of our own making. Hey: This aft about 2 good. You choose spot. I am mobile so wherever. “Little Victories,” you wrote… That those v’s would grow so, oh… Even with the white boys golfing on land claimed by others… Oh… indigenous people’s day… You said, “Buzzkill”. I said, “I am indigenous”. Both of us knowing that neither of us right or wrong: Both born on and in and through the land that gave us citizenship… That in any other language gave us native ethnic rooted rights… For I am not a colour Nor are you a history We are the child born… So we put aside our victories… Over each other… pale limpid constructs that they are… Those we have won and those for which we or others fight… I you we are not an ideology… God knows that love is...

Latish On A Winter Coming Night 10 November 2019   jp Winter bearing down upon us all Grey slate skies Cold wind Snow whispering through the early dusk… Darkness now… Wind slipping around the cabin walls Wood stove clinks with heat Dog sighs Oddly…   a fly buzzes Quiet enough to hear the ring in my ears… Elsewhere I know The world clatters with friendship… And war… And insects on wet tropical forest floors While here… … … … Now under frosted ground Forest trees naked of leaves Within them a pond… Ice encrusted … … … The world sleeps ---- What odd extremes known inside my head… What busyness it takes To have electric light and airplanes… Too much, my friend, mr. buzzing fly… Too much inside my head To consider why, the why, of 8 billion people… All vibrating… While I and the forest Around me Sleeps.

  Her Arms Embrace Me 21 October 2019 jp melville Grey morning arrives Or is it that I awake Only fog of travel In my head. Mist, after all, welcomes us to new space, sensual alternative, Offering us to learn to touch with skin, To flare our nostrils, To reflect deeply beyond the depths of our eyes The phantoms we imagine we see before us. Courage, when the world is sensual… Courage…. Fog comes from unfamiliarity: Cobblestone streets. Trams that rumble past. City sky lines with gothic steeples. Vertical surfaces with stone sculpted relief and signage in strange language. Fog comes from unfamiliarity: Days pass in an office where laughter is shared and decisions made, not yours. Weather slowly shifts from autumn to colder and leaves drop to ground, nakedness for which you miss the unveiling. Child grows rapidly adding new words and inches one day closer to toil...

6 a.m. in Brussels 21 October 2019 jp melville Sleep, city, sleep… Like any other city, sleep… Your day starts too early… This 6 a.m. in Brussels Swish of tires on wet pavement… Black dawn creeping into grey sky… Like any hotel… I hear the creak of doors… Footsteps trod lightly across a floor above… A woman raises her dry loined voice in anger in the room next door… Elsewhere heads heavy with drink lie abandoned on pillows… Kitchen staff yawning prep in a basement with croissants and chocolate and eggs benedict… A bed creaks in rhythm a couple rocking to their wander lust… Outside a tram stops dings then rolls on gentle thunder rumbles even to my feet upon the floor… A red umbrella plods along the street lone soul en route somewhere come to go… Pavement, concrete, metal poles, wall to wall buildings arise in dawning light Car numbers slowly multiply Like any city always was were will be So long as we preside on earth in stature dom...