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Stephen Derwent Partington

 

Stephen Derwent Partington  is the poetry editor of East Africa’s only literary magazine, Kwani?, and has collection of poems published in Kenya, where he lives with his wife. His next collection will be published in the UK by Cinnamon Press in 2010.  His poetry has  appeared in various UK magazines, including The New Welsh Review, Smiths Knoll, Verse, Poetry Wales, Iron, Swansea and Review.  He also write academic articles on East African literature, especially poetry, for postcolonial journals, and keeps up-to-date with poetry around the world, particularly the UK. He is a member of ‘Concerned Kenyan Writers’, a group of young writers set up during the recent post-election violence in Kenya.

 

FINIS

 

Come the moment when the world ends

by an asteroid, not war

a cat-eyed medieval novice will have

just returned his quill to sit admiring how

his monumental ‘S’ recalls the outline of a Mosque

 

in which a scribe sits, having

finished his transcription of the lesser-known Hadith,

his final orthographic angles square and solid

like a Monastery’s nave

 

in which a novice has been writing

left to right, to greet his fellow scribe’s

devout and stylised Arabic on their final

central page.

 

Unless the world should end by war.

 

 

Cleansing Work; Child Soldiering

 

Sunny ‘Washes whiter’.

Sunny ‘Works, so you don’t have to’.

Lying slumped against the floor, a little

Sunny sachet, clumsy as a baby bird

that’s fallen from the thatch.

 

New Sunny ‘Works away all stains’.

A drop of blood upon my boot:
I have been toiling, blood and sweat

and mud and grease, the common stains.

 

New Sunny’s ‘Better than the rest’.

New Sunny’s ‘Kinder to your fibres’.

There, a pair of arms relaxed against the floor.

The husband gone, the wife imploring.

Tears can stain.  I soldier on.

 

New Sunny’s ‘Powerful and fast’.

I lift my panga to the rafters, carve

a new Picasso laugh from ear to mouth.

 

New Sunny ‘Lasts’.

 

 

Red, Yes, But No Less Purple or Green for That

For Bernard O’Donoghue

 

I too have thought this satire unremitting,

called the farce of how we live life’s only face:

a cruel face, sweating with the juices of its lunch

while, yes, as ever, others stare beyond the fence.

To wail injustice is as easy as lamenting those who die.

To see precisely the subliminal insertion

of a photograph of women loudly laughing

as the film of how the slumday slog rolls on, rolls on,

well, that’s the shrewder effort and an equal truth,

regardless.  When the pangas nod like herds of vile giraffe

there will be one that stands aback and disapproves

and even strides his errant cousins back to sanity.

A bus will crash, but equally, a loaded bus arrive.

The heart relaxes just as often as it beats, and yet

the pulse is all too often all that registers.

Concede this much: the flea has some redeeming skill.

To rail is to be human, is to demonstrate

a love of those who suffer, yes, of course,

and yet to live denouncing suffering’s to elevate

that pain.  Is a forgetting.  Camaraderie

and laughter are an equal part of history.

I used to think to think as much was apathy.

But now it’s obligation.  Else, the what may come

that’s worth the effort hoping, will not come.

It’s not to turn the other cheek so very far

we snap and owl ourselves to death; it is

a need, not just to see the smile, but smile.

Not just be human, but to see the other human

and the inkling of a chance that she who eats

and he who starves can both be remedied.

It isn’t feeling pity, or what pity’s come to mean.

We raise our voice, but sometimes also hold our

tongues; our lips may purse, but part in ecstasy.

The sufferer can sometimes bubble laughter

just as readily as break, and isn’t virtuous

because she’s one who suffers: even victims

bully down as well as love.  The world is various,

so vile, perhaps, but wonderful as us, us splendid us.

For instance: one, beyond my window there’s a herder

who’s amused by something small I haven’t seen
(yes, even idylls have a truth beyond naivety);

and, two, a pigeon’s sitting on that wire

(I’m thinking Basho, but as easily of simply how

a pigeon’s sitting calmly on a wire,

which is a trifle to my socialistic self,

but no less here, for that, or happy.)

 

 

Back-to-Back NatGeoTV Documentaries

 

This shrunken ball of mackerel:

tighter than a tear.

Or maybe herring?

When a predator is sighted,

watch them silver to a sphere.

But when the predators are seals and sharks

and whales and gulls and gannets, it is

futile: not defence, then, just a scramble

to determine who’ll be first and last to die,

a frenzied clamber as the oxygen is emptied

from their frantic, fast-evaporating tear.

 

The loose scales fritter to the deep:

they shine like gold and silver teeth,

or stacks of rings, of watches, spectacles;

like canisters; unfathomable things.

 

 

 

 

 

 

copyright © Stephen Derwent Partington