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POETRY BY
JOHN HOLT
Poet on a Small Island
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UPON BATTERSEA BRIDGE
Oct.4, 1998
I stood on Battersea Bridge in blustery air
and viewed a `Bungie-Jump` where,
below a crane, a crowd, massed deep and wide,
allowed a volunteer his chance at suicide.
Who would be dull of wit (I was not one)
and turn aside to disregard such fun?
A sight so touching I was moved to say
"My god - the fool is going to have his way
and launch his body into tethered flight -
a rubber string on human `kite`!"
No Labyrinth by this Thames-bank
or Daedalus with Icarus in the Maze.
No vengeful Minos, no Ariadne
helping Theseus flee into the night;
Simply an autumn day in London,
where I saw a man in flight.
(c) john holt 1998-10-13
HJB
The weirdest kid I ever knew
Was Henry James Bartholomew
He wasn't big, he wasn't small -
he kind of made himself `look` tall.
And somehow, in the strangest way,
he just `looked` clever - day-by-day.
The teachers never seemed to ask
how HJB had done his task,
he simply `looked` as if he had
and this just left them feeling glad.
Because he `looked` so very bright
they called him "The School's Leading Light"
(it was so weird and I recall
he *never* seemed to work at all).
What of Assignments - Projects too?
I never saw them (yeah - it's true!),
and as for Graduation Day
he got top prizes - all the way!
And when he left they placed his name
Upon the College Board of Fame.
Much later, when I was at Yale,
I told some guys this scary tale.
"The weirdest kid I ever knew
was "Henry James Bartholomew"
and then they said
`We knew him too`..........
DARK TIME
Some moments steal
the darkest side
of thoughts and dreams
and make them hide
in places where
they should not be,
in chasms where,
it seems to me,
lurk other things
I should not see.
The eyes I wear
throughout this time
are but a window
to my mind
as I peer out through
shuttered blinds.
I am not gone -
but deep in there
are things I know
I cannot share......
(c)john holt 10-11-1998
Love is Electric
You arrive
like a cool breeze,
swirling
around my head.
I read your words
and imagine
your
sensual side -
that inner part
you hide
to protect yourself.
from strangers
like me.
But
even though
you do
this
I understand
and hold
a picture
of you
in my mind.
And in time -
how do I
know
I will not fall
for you
in some strange way
because
I loved your words?
Eventually,
you might
build a bridge
to my heart
and never
be aware
you did so.
In my thoughts
I can dream
of how you
look,
or sound,
or smell.
Perhaps you
have the
rich perfume
of Summer about you
dancing
on your skin,
or the
heady scent
of Spring days?
But maybe
you are
Winter`s child?
Strong and beautiful,
all ice
and frost
on the outside,
waiting
for fire and heat
to melt
your
winter coating?
I do not know -
-but I imagine
you are
all these things
and I must be
content
with
this imagination...
(c)John Holt 06-15-98
Living Flame
It was your mind which first attracted me,
Your thoughts and words with all their clarity
I did not have a picture of your face
Yet fell in love with you in Time & Space
And oh! the ecstasy inside that `frame`.
You were my opium and my living flame.
Can Love survive if Lovers never meet?
I cannot tell - but know our moment
was *so* sweet.....
(c)John Holt 1998
HOUSE OF WORDS
So many words to build before I sleep tonight.
Outside the stars in coal-sack sky blaze down
and watch me stacking words from left to right
heedless of my reddened eyes and worried frown.
Each one I place upon an empty page,
Terror, sadness, romance, humor, rage.
In serried rows the lines which I demand
fall in and represent the feelings I command.
Stack upon stack they fill the empty space,
like friends around me calling at my place.
Long hours my fingers tapping out a theme
on keyboard, building up another dream.
I dare not stop as ideas start to flow at last,
I make a row of words and plant them fast
before the theme runs dry or I am caught
in paradox, replacing my eclectic thought.
Ah! Now it`s done, and though the hour is late
I built my house of words and finished at 3.48
(c)john holt 02-nov.1998. 03:48am
COPY - RIGHT?
I copyright myself through genes
in dna but now, it seems,
if I leave cells upon a door
the government will make some more.
They keep their agents on our trains
and anyone with any brains
can see them as they scrape away
just by the exit - any day.
This bothers me (I am _my own!)
what happens if I meet a clone
that says `I`m you - you`re not alone.
The government ran out of sheep
and copied you so now they keep
the right to replicate and scan
your doubles as we walk the land`
Now every night at twelve o clock
I wake up in a trembling shock
and search my body for the sight
of "federal government copyright".
I sit and think with worried mind
of all the things that I might find -
Will I get blamed if all those mees
start hitting towns & climbing trees?
and husbands call me on the phone
to shout `Just leave my wife alone!
You are the kind of guy I hate,
philandering in every State!`
Will every police force in the land
hold files on me with
`This guy`s banned
he has no rights
he hates all sheep
(he gets in fights)` ?
What can I do to prove that I
own copyright on me til I die?
How do I go about mailing me
to Library of Congress @ D.C. ?
I`m losing touch with what I own,
Is ma my mom or was I grown?
Did you write this or are you me?
-I own your copyright you see.....
(c)john holt 01-nov-1998 (not assigned to clones)
Chasing Velvet
Come
my beloved,
let me touch,
again
those parts
I love so much
and let my
gentle hands
expose
the
venus mound
beneath
your clothes.
Ah!.....
Now I stiffen,
as I glide,
along the
valley
deep inside,
while you
respond
with
eager lips
and tightly
lock
your willing
hips
and we cry out
while
thrusting so,
releasing all
in
one
sweet
flow....
(c)John Holt 06-18-98
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