They asked who you were

But I didn’t know;

A classical beauty

Sculpted in white

Looking down

Over the pool.

For a while we swapped

Names of ancient gods

Half remembered

From school days,

But there was no agreement;

The sun burned

Until everyone

Entered the water

To cool off;

Then a bather

Hurled a beach ball

Accidentally striking you

So you spun around

As if in disgust

At your secret revealed;

A heavenly body

Made of plastic

Like everything else today.

Ascension

The priest smiled lifting his eyes

As if witnessing the event,

‘They must have seen

The soles of his feet rising’

He remarked, ‘and thought

That’s it then,

But it wasn’t’.

‘Life isn’t simple

For most of us,

There’s always

Something or other

To complicate matters,

Some follow up action

We need to take.

People don’t disappear

Into clouds

For no reason,

The challenges

Are to discover

What he meant

And why he went’.

Clouds of Existence

She tells you what the weather was

During the night, when you were asleep,

What time it rained and when it stopped,

The wind conditions snow and hail,

Or warmer spells, the raised temperature

And for how long, when it thundered,

When there was lightning,

Where it struck and how many times;

She can tell you all this

Although she says she sleeps well.

So you think maybe she dreamt it all

But you dare not whisper so,

She has an answer for everything

And she knows the difference

Between dreams and storms,

Between fantasies and heatwaves,

She remembers every vision,

Every ecstasy, every nightmare,

She recounts them in detail

Seeking your interpretation.

But you just listen silently

For your sleep is a heavy blanket

Of anaesthetic darkness

Smothering all recollection,

Undisturbed by weather conditions

And your dreams are brief,

Best not spoken of in polite company;

Unlike her you are not amongst those

Who have access to higher worlds

Who pierce the very clouds of existence.

David Subacchi lives in Wales (UK) where he was born of Italian roots. He studied at the University of Liverpool. He has four published collections of his English Language poetry and one in Welsh.

You can find out more about David at https://www.writeoutloud.net/profiles/davidsubacchi

or simply by searching online for DAVID SUBACCHI.

The post Poems by David Subacchi first appeared on Prachya Review.

They asked who you were

But I didn’t know;

A classical beauty

Sculpted in white

Looking down

Over the pool.

For a while we swapped

Names of ancient gods

Half remembered

From school days,

But there was no agreement;

The sun burned

Until everyone

Entered the water

To cool off;

Then a bather

Hurled a beach ball

Accidentally striking you

So you spun around

As if in disgust

At your secret revealed;

A heavenly body

Made of plastic

Like everything else today.

 ASCENSION

The priest smiled lifting his eyes

As if witnessing the event,

‘They must have seen

The soles of his feet rising’

He remarked, ‘and thought

That’s it then,

But it wasn’t’.

‘Life isn’t simple

For most of us,

There’s always

Something or other

To complicate matters,

Some follow up action

We need to take.

People don’t disappear

Into clouds

For no reason,

The challenges

Are to discover

What he meant

And why he went’.

CLOUDS OF EXISTENCE

She tells you what the weather was

During the night, when you were asleep,

What time it rained and when it stopped,

The wind conditions snow and hail,

Or warmer spells, the raised temperature

And for how long, when it thundered,

When there was lightning,

Where it struck and how many times;

She can tell you all this

Although she says she sleeps well.

So you think maybe she dreamt it all

But you dare not whisper so,

She has an answer for everything

And she knows the difference

Between dreams and storms,

Between fantasies and heatwaves,

She remembers every vision,

Every ecstasy, every nightmare,

She recounts them in detail

Seeking your interpretation.

But you just listen silently

For your sleep is a heavy blanket

Of anaesthetic darkness

Smothering all recollection,

Undisturbed by weather conditions

And your dreams are brief,

Best not spoken of in polite company;

Unlike her you are not amongst those

Who have access to higher worlds

Who pierce the very clouds of existence.

About the Poet

David Subacchi lives in Wales (UK) where he was born of Italian roots. He studied at the University of Liverpool. He has four published collections of his English Language poetry and one in Welsh.

The post Poems by David Subacchi first appeared on Prachya Review.