Francis Bennion - Poetry - Poemotions - The Fell Seargent Death

It troubles me, as I float above.
I left a bill unpaid, so was I a cheat?
The gas that choked me - I took it for free.
Dying's easy -
paying's the difficulty.

Start of page 311 in the book

The Days of History

I regret the days that are gone -
the days of history I mean, dusty and dead you might think,
but you would be wrong about that;
they rule us still.

Not only the days but the hours - even the minutes that are gone I regret.
All through that pumping time those far gone English people were living, you know;
living their important lives, breathing those lives away as we do:
also doing what they had to do, just like us.

And where are they now - they must be somewhere.
They were important, those lives, to those distant people.
Even down to the minutest detail, tucking a hair in, smoothing a dress, sketching a wintry smile.
They were living and breathing like us, those medieval people.

I can't believe they are all dead and gone,
left with little trace, and not mattering any more.
Not mattering at all most think, but they matter to me:
I see their unseen traces all around, and feel them.

So please, please don't forget them, all those ancient ones.
You don't want to be forgotten; why should they?

Start of page 312 in the book

The End that Counts

Now am I given more
than was shown in my casual dreams.
I see the clarid lights
burning out soft membrane -
leaving the real.

Coated with copper, that
molten liquor spread thin,
drying, cooling, cracked -
discarded, leaving the pink
tender flesh.

Tender now, but it will harden;
will form the latter end
of being, the end that counts:
the impulses that know;
gaunt figures of one life.

What is left is real to me
only after journeys
travelling in the inner realms.
Looking over my shoulder
I fell sideways.

Start of page 313 in the book

Thanatos

'Freud's final duality was the division of the mind into two sets of instincts which he termed life instincts and death instincts respectively - or, if one prefers the Greek names, Eros and Thanatos.' - British Journal of Psychology 1935 XXVI 283.

I feel the strong desire to weep;
indeed do sometimes let tears flood my eyes.
Under control the starting droplets run:
I indulge each one
letting them flow
self-indulgently
for no reason but old Thanatos -
he being reason enough
to let tears flow.

When for reason enough
he claimed me before
I learnt to know old Thanatos -
more powerful than Eros,
coming when Eros goes.
Eros flows, draining the angled box -
only to make space beside me therein
for his dull friend Thanatos
and the resulting tears.

Start of page 314 in the book

Heaven or Hell - or Nowhere

Swing high
swing low
when your time comes
you've got to go

Swing high
swing low
my time's nearly here
and I need to know

Swing high
swing low
where I am going
with my life in tow

Swing high
swing low

Will I swing high
will I swing low?

It's not much to ask
near the end of your task