Zoo

I remember the white wolves
wolvine, lupine, tongues lolling
heads low, eyes darting,
ranging up and down
the wire mesh fence
walking, twisting, walking.

You were pulling my hand,
pulling me away,
but I resisted,
staying like a child, nose pressed,
staring entranced,
waiting for darkness
in the snow white tundra,
so I could howl at the moon.


Anna Meryt
Nov 2007

Felucca Night

Softly the old boat thudded to the shore
- a starlit beach - an island on the Nile.
our boat nearby - single-masted, white sailed swan.

The old boat was no swan, more a battered albatross.
the turbanned, long-robed group leapt quickly down and
soon, a twig-fire glowed - small glasses of hot chai
were passed around, together with
a makeshift hookah - an old tin can and reed straw.

Sitting apart was a boy who played
a tune so haunting on his 'flute' -
a metal tube, with holes cut in;
he played to the night
crowded out, with brilliant stars.

Far away a dog barked, a mullah called to Allah
and from the boat close by we were observers of this scene -
Juliette and I, until on impulse we jumped down and
entered the sacred circle of camp fire light.

We drank their chai and begged the flute player
to play on and on, until he had no breath left,
his reedy, dreamy melody floating in to the smoky night.

Laughing and chatting the company paid scant heed
to these western women,
dropped in from another universe
of cities and pollution.

All at once they stood and doused the fire
leapt on their silent gliding boat
quickly fading into the eternal dark
leaving floating in the sultry night
a scent of oily wood smoke
and a faint and lonely melody
in my remembering.

Anna Meryt© 1989

Cutting through eternity

The time of trees is measured
in rings
and rocks are stratified
in layers
Cut a slice of me
and see if my time
is visible there -
in brains and veins and bones
or will the search
for ordered patterns of time
kill me

Anna Meryt ©
May 2005

The Principles of Human Rights

Take action for yourself
and you will fight
a rearguard action
to save a piece of it
for when your brave armour
will take you to another
time and place
formulas for peace
will spout out the mouths
of babes and innocents
until the time
for absolution
has come

Anna Meryt©
2002

Sometimes

Sometimes words gallop
from my mouth in a disordered rush
and people’s eyes glaze over
under the barrage.

Sometimes, when its warmth that I feel,
cold razor words fall from my lips
and the distance to bridge
becomes a glacial chasm.

Sometimes words are so futile and grey
for painting passions that could explode
in a rainbow of numberless colours
that I despair.

Sometimes a chord sounds
when I look in someone’s eyes
and a note of harmony hums between us.
These moments, though rare keep me in tune.

Anna Meryt ©

NEW SHOES

I can't find
the right new shoes.
So I bought the wrong ones.
At home I glare at them,
I put them on my feet,
I wear them all day,
but my feet don't like them.

Back to the shops,
I walk round Saxone, Dolcis, Shoe Express
with new shoes on - trying to see
if my feet like them.
Round and round I walk
but its no good
my feet don't like them.

Then I'm in Argos,
when I decide to nip
across the road
to the shoe shop.
I put on the shoes
I don't like them
and they're too expensive.
But my feet love 'em
my feet won't take them off
my feet make me buy them.


Anna Meryt © Sept 2000

Lets hear it for the masculine pronoun

When reading literary articles of any kind
don’t forget, oh women,
to translate in your mind
he, his, him
and all words of this kind
to she, her, hers
and then you’ll find,
that masculine pronouns
(and this will be underlined)
can clearly be understood
by all combined,
to cover gender universally,
in a way that’s single-minded,
and simplifies the writer’s job,
leaving behind
unnecessary misunderstanding
of the kind
that leads to confusion
in everyone’s minds.

Don’t dismiss, oh women, those words
that feminists whined
were about superior gender,
they’re nothing of the kind,
but merely about traditional forms
that have for centuries been pre-determined….
by men.

Anna Meryt ©
Mar 2005

Staying Alive

You cling to me, drowning,
thinking I am log-like
and will bob you back to the surface
arrest the slow descent
to the mud-silt bottom.

Your illusional log contrasts
with my reality, where
I drift slowly down
holding tight to any part of you
to keep my carp mouth
just above the surface

gulping air

staying alive

Anna Meryt 2005 ©

Connected

Humanity hums around me.
I feel the energy and life, throbbing.
Awareness is below,
hidden like radar,
electric but unmistakably present,
below the coats and scarves and gloves,
below the hooded eyes and blank faces,
an invisible singing wire.
Below the silence and unspeaking
this bus is shouting.

Anna Meryt © Nov 2005

Brick on brick

Nero played the fiddle
but I danced a DJ tune.
Not Rome burning here

- a constructed edifice nevertheless,
built carefully brick on brick
over a lifetime.

My hands bat the flames
blistering in the heat
making no impression.

I laugh as the ruins
glow and crumble, glow and crumble,
what else can I do?

The siren roars silently
but the pumps are out of water and
there is no salve to soothe and heal.

Hot ash rises and I must let it fall
and slowly start again to build
brick on brick . . .

Anna Meryt © Mar 06

Squatter's Rights

I was ‘do-not-trespass’
but you opened the gate
I told you time was short
but you said it was fate

I said I’ll go soon but
you stroked me like a child
I warned you time was brief
and you said ‘stay awhile’.

I said ‘Let’s not say 'love’
you agreed it was just fun
I thought my heart was ring-fenced
you talked, I should have run.

I said ‘I’ve got my plans
that don’t include another'.
You said you’d think of ways
to bind us both together.

I said ‘no let me go’,
but my struggles grew weaker.
you said you’d staked your claim
and my voice grew feebler.

I was do-not-trespass
but you set up squatter’s rights
I should send in the bailiffs
or slip away one night.

Anna Meryt ©
May 2005

Hurling bricks

Each time we disagree,
fall out, row
you make me wrong
you make YOU right
then you save them up
all these wrongs
you ever thought I did
in a list
in your head
and when the next row comes
you hurl these bricks
one-by-one
to batter me down
until I sit
in a heap of rubble..

Anna Meryt
June 06