Blanc Productions

BOB'S POETRY

Here is some of Bob’s poetry for possible inspiration.

[ Naturally it’s all copyright but anyone is welcome to circulate it free of charge and also publish it in magazines, at no charge. Condition for all that is that it’s attributed to Bob Beresford and you notify us, eg by email (at bobberesford.com) that you will be publishing it. See ‘ Contact ‘on this site. ]

[ Using the poetry in any books would have to be discussed with us first, but we’re likely be flexible and accommodating about that. ]

At some point an actual book of Bob’s poetry will be published.

You are most welcome to download the poetry from the downloads section.

END OF THE ROAD

Lay your load down at the end of the road
When a nightime horizon encircles eternity
Here among rocks where the grasses have broken
Is peace for a wayfarer – caught in a picture

Beyond your last steps see a track heading nowhere
Find a trail winding up into the hills
Surrounding a moment submerged in soft breezes
Night air is warm where the spirit is blown

I came in a night to the end of a road
Awoken from slumber – and now I am seeing
Clear sky in pale light, turning leaves silver
As bound to soft stone I am drawn towards sleeping

ALWAYS

Have you caught me reaching?
I reach always – I have reached forever
When you are here around me
When you are all I see
When everything is fulfilled through you
I reach to you – for completeness
Always

SYRIAN SCENE

The air in this country is heavy with water
Across the vast spaces a moist winter atmosphere
Settles itself in a mild drift of wind
As pleasant to breath as a distance to view

A long way away, from the low fertile plain
In stark isolation some hills rising gently
Have merged with the cloud that has covered this region
Where dull moving air pervades all of our senses

A city that’s built out of colourless stone
Into flat-topped houses with roofs you could live on
While resting for centuries through all the changes
Is moving in time with the course of the day

Man on the land with a life-giving river
Still wandering gently into the small towns
Through glowing red soil and around the low ranges
Where peaks are concealed in the colourless cloud

Syrian scene is a time for quiet breathing
And sitting up high looking over a town
With its temples and water-wheels turning as ever
Through a day nearly over and rain coming down

FOR A’ THAT

( Inspired by Robbie Burns and dedicated to the Scottish National Party. Written in Olde Pseudo Scottish. )
© Bob Beresford

Is there for honest puberty,
That’s hung sae well, an’ a’ that?
Tho’ clothes be rags for monie a day,
His back is gude for a’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
He’s strong an’ true an’ a’ that,
The tartans but the Highland stamp,
The man’s the gowd for a’ that.

What though on porridge e’er we dine,
An’ haggis red, an’ a’ that,
Gie fools their feasts, and knaves their wine,
We’ve oats an’ rye for a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
Their bonnie robes, an’ a’ that
When kilts are raised above the head,
A man’s a man for a’ that!

Ye ken yon Englishman, a lord,
Wha struts an’ stares, an’ a’ that?
Tho’ wealth has gat, he’s worth nae words
The man’s a fool for a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
His shining face, an’ a’ that,
Tha’ man wha plays his bagpipes loud
Is proud, an’ laughs at a’ that!

A man can tae a Highland Fling
Wi’ any lass, for a’ that,
An’s gude if o’er her groans he sings,
Or makes a poem an’ a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
Gae to an’ fro, an’ a’ that,
When barleys drunk, an’ sheets are warm,
A lassie’s gude for a’ that.

Then let us pray, that come the day:
When men are free, an’ a’ that;
Of heather’s birth, o’er a’ the earth,
And thistles wee, an’ a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
The days nae far for a’ that,
When man for man, o’er a’ the lands,
Shall Scotsmen be for a’ that!

SONG FOR THE EVENING

I thought I would write you a song for the evening
The words are here now and the music is ringing
I hear the sounds down in the streets where they're floating
That make up a night in the place where we're meeting

Life stumbles on in a line of strange words
That are mixed in confusion and now have no meaning
But sometimes a whisper will break through the noises
And often the thought is a song in the making

I would write you a song but the feeling is gone
While the words are now only the things I am seeing
But colours remain in the light that has changed
And the patterns are moving in ways that are pleasing

NIGHT ON A BEACH

© Bob Beresford

Sounds in darkness - spinning around the centre of our lives
Out to the horizons -
-so many points of glittering light

A travelling pattern has turned in the air
Alternate flashes of white and vermillion
Another as well disappearing

The balanced completeness of our lives
Young ones playing
The steady roar and the breeze embalm us
Wave upon wave drawn into our vision

Lovers together - others apart
Treading courses in the sand
Still remaining

At peace with ourselves we harmonize energy
Surging around us,
Now so familiar

Hearts singing -
- We are alone and together
A sweeping presence -
-we balance the forces emanating from the distance
- waves of water and sound

Depths beyond us come to our presence
Mysteries remain
- Man is complete

LOST WORDS

I held the lost words in a time long forgotten
That lingers round time when a flash of new colour
Has broken through all the old lines of a picture
Surrounding my sight in a stream of unconsciousness

Night takes a day like a thief in the darkness
When city lights sing through an evening of noises
That echo round time in a chain of strange spaces
Where lost words are hovering between the changes

A moment is gone like a long-buried treasure
Where sea-winds have blown waves of sand across ages
And feelings like places now covered by dunes
Lie outside a consciousness dulled by times ravages.

SYDNEY HARBOUR AT NIGHT

I could walk here endlessly
But this is not my home
Water reaching to land
Monumental bridge to a farther shore
- It takes me nowhere

Structure of shells in gigantic proportions
Lit up - alive - and teeming with people
Never again - this shall not be mine

The lights and colours of a Saturday evening
Strong in it's presence
- I drift through this scene

Massive stone images rising before
Banners - standards - and scaffolds in the air

Overhead passages leading away
And out to the harbour the lights shining still
Succession of flags with a breeze flowing through them
Poles wave - lights glow - traffic moves through

Standing statues with lights and names
Rise way beyond us - surrounding this place
Harbour at night with vessels in motion
Moon shines as ever through the clearness of space

Trees sway in rhythm - their leaves flutter madly
Wind inspires everything - following ways
Through the gaps and the spaces of all this existence
Endless forevers - divided by days

ICE CANYONS

Dreams in our minds have eroded to nothing
As nothing is all we have lived for
Colourful lies have enveloped our lives
As always we choose to believe them
I have seen through the lies when they're broken by laughter
Like pictures dissolving in torrents of water
I saved my last hope for a day breaking after
But woke in the light of the moon.

Night has now found us escaping through streets
Here where the walls tower around
Like a cold canyon which funnels the wind
Here is the ice that surrounds
Now as I'm lost in the sights that I'm seeing
In cities of stone where the spirit is freezing
And lies have no colour as dreams have no meaning
I wait for a chance to be found.

SCENE IN NEPAL

Mountain refuge is drawing near
Where valleys are cut by these torrents of water
Ridges of purple which closer are green
Come down without falling to paths here below.

Pictures of farmyards have been close around
They're part of a day in the lives of the people
Who live out the seasons upon a steep hillside
Or cling to some level ground here in a vale.

Passing through life on the way to a village
People forever with loads on their backs
Or mules tread the paths in a noisy procession
Where buffaloes lazily feed on some grass.

Up through a pattern that's woven by ridges
Clouds caress faces of sheer frozen stone
And cover some places where ice will be forming
While snow-drifts are burning the last of the day.

Light on a peak is now shattered by crystals
That spray the sun down in a glow of vermillion
And faces of gold which were vibrant and clear
Have lost the last promise that daylight could bring

Mountain now rising from shrouds of mauve-grey
That weave throughout space round the towering masses
Is stiller than evening when air is descending
And last breath of wind is absorbed by the night.

Still in the coldness surrounded with clarity
Pure white outline before a deep blue
The picture is fading into a dark evening
While down here a night starts with nothing in view

White streaks remaining upon a grey monument
- All that is left with the light disappearing
As now in the darkness some fireflies are glowing
And stars form a pattern upon the night's ceiling.

SCENE IN NEPAL - THE NEXT DAY

Morning came slowly into the cold valley
Here where we slept while the air began moving
Around the quiet hillsides and into our consciousness
Rising from rest in the warmth of our beds.

Many rock fences that mark out the boundaries
Lead on to houses with thatch or stone roofs
And plants that we eat from are growing profusely
Bordered by young trees that drift with the wind.

Soft early breezes that fill this enclosure
Are clear as the sky which surrounds all our feelings
Reaching through space to a star-lit mountain
Where rays of this morning reflect from the edges.

Sharp glowing outline is ringing with sunlight
Blinding gold texture vibrating in snow-drifts
Resting on ridges of motionless stone
Fractured by crevasses lined with dark shadow.

Glacial bowl has been capturing whiteness
Draining the moisture that came with a season
Now falling downward toward lower slopes
Where life takes a foothold among broken stone.

Higher the peak holds the message of morning
Clearly the snow shows a pure new light
Later revealing the sides of the valley
And warming the air which was held by the night.

THE DESTRUCTION OF THE ECONOMY

(Inspired by Alfred Lord Byron’s – The Destruction of Sennacherib)

The Americans came down like a wolf on the fold
'Cause they'd already mortgaged their silver and gold
And their sunglasses glared like the stars on the sea
As the cameras clicked nightly in deep Galilee

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green
That host with their greenbacks and bankcards were seen
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn has blown
That host on the morrow was fleeced to the bone

For the merchants of trinkets had ripped them off fast
And plied them with souvenirs as they went past
They had been charged for photos by kids who were smirking
And robbed in the taxis whose meters “ weren’t working “
They were socked in the restaurants, charged double for rooms
Paid money for churches and visiting ruins
Bought overpriced postcards and lost their last cash
To amateur beggars who spent it on hash

And the housewives of Jaffa are wild in their glee
'Cause the tourists are floating the economy
And the might of the dollar, unquestioned as yet
Has serviced the interest on the national debt

DEEP WINTER

I'd like to take hours from a day going nowhere
And rest in the sunlight - ignoring chill breezes
So just for a while there's a time that means nothing
As days that mean nothing will lead us to Spring

Remember moist winds that can penetrate everything
Sucking all warmth from the blood near your skin
And whatever you do is surrounded by coldness
As no inspiration remains in a scene

Winter has trapped us in a pool of ice water
That's now turning solid as eyes are still swimming
And senses are slowing through currents of liquid
So heavily sinking and gripping our feelings

Thank a bleak sky for a few hours of sunlight
And soak up some warmth while away from the wind
In a city that's lost all its heat to the heavens
We'll wait for the sun to be near us again.

ODE IN A CITY

sonnet

Open the door and the wind will rush in
Feel what you missed in the tired city heat
Moments reveal all we gain and we win
In the stark rooms where we live and we meet

Threading our lives through this passage of days
Treading the ways that are leading us on
Till in an evening we sit and we gaze
Lost in a landscape of warm golden stone

Forms of a city now shaped by desire
Those who endured made a world that we feel
Bathed in this colour the streets are on fire
Last light of day burning stone and the steel

So we have come to an ending we know
Blown by the wind as we come and we go

SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO A WINTER’S STORM?

(Inspired by the Elizabethan lecher Will Shakepeare)

Shall I compare thee to a winter's storm?
Thou art far colder than the northern gale:
As thou, his blush hath never blown me warm,
And scarcely do'st thou lift thy icy veil:
Sometime unto a coarse and frigid stone,
Lay'st quiet at rest upon thy velvet couch;
Before thy gaze ‘twere sweet to be alone,
Thy pale complexion numb beneath my touch;
But my eternal credit shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that cash I ow'st;
Nor courts shall claim I wander in the red,
When in hard times my resources are low'st:
So long as thou do'st lend, or give to me,
So long lives love, and I'll bring love to thee.

ALL THE WORLDS A STAGE

All the worlds a stage,
And all the men and women merely stage-hands:
They have their broomsticks and their spotlights
And each man in his life works many hours.

NO TURNING BACK

You said there was no turning back
So you lift your feet higher and lightly you stepped
On with the breeze of an early spring day
Swirling dust clouding the edge of the way
Your body moved on to an impulse you knew
The rhythm you felt in the road

So it’s all you could see and it’s all you can want
Waves of hills leading the passage of men
Wayfaring souls who have wandered and then
Found in a place and a moment they held to
Time started over again

Were you taken aback at the power of this place?
Taken so far to be here and be found
Caught at the turn in a season of change
Lost in the hills and the towering range
You tread your way softly – and torn by the wind
Your life begins over again

THROUGH - INTO NIGHT (ON THE SHORE)

Moments are with us – and moments are gone
A breeze broke the waters – and murmured through silence
Now we are waiting – and now we are watching
Wind on the waters – and light in the sky

Here in a sunset – waves are returning
Tides they are ebbing and carrying sands
On into twilight the waters are flowing
Colours cascade and they come and they go

Warm air is lifting the scents of the shore
Enveloping senses with salt and with life
Weeds that are rotting and those that are growing
Running the tide like the edge of a knife

Seabirds are calling and waters are lapping
Tides draw the memories – till a new dawn
Colours will lead us and nights will surround us
Wind takes the moment – and here we are born