September 22, 2017

Two Poems by Byron Beynon

The Tree

The tree I planted
twenty years ago
has been felled
along with its shadow.
Birds that paused
on its branches
have melted away.
The wind no longer vibrates,
its notes pass by
with an undulating silence,
a silence that blooms
with the dignity of night,
as its memory reaches
towards the splintered
gleams of the most secret stars.


Frost hardened snow,
a settled whiteness frozen
on inscribed stones
slanting towards light,
the echo and call of rooks
high above a shifting graveyard.
A father empties a pistol,
speeds a bullet
from a morning window.
An addict dreams of the solid
Black Bull.
The skeleton at the foot
of the bed summons
red-haired Branwell
from sleep.
This portrait artist with poems
published in the Halifax Guardian
paints himself out
between Emily and Charlotte,
a crowding which disturbed
the luxury of balance
transient in the Haworth air.

Byron Beynon's work has appeared in several publications including Poppy Road Review, Agenda, Santa Fe Literary Review, Crannog and Poetry Wales. Collections include The Sundial (Flutter Press), Nocturne in Blue (Lapwing Publications) and The Echoing Coastline (Agenda Editions).

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