Celandines by Egal Bohen

 

This week I am going to publish a poem from a rare gem of a find that I made earlier this year- the late Egal Bohen’s poetry book ‘The Navigator’.

Egal sadly passed away the morning after his book was finalised and published on Amazon, by his amazing daughter, Helen. This book is a must buy and should be up there in your shelf, for later reading, again and again. These are pearl words of wisdom that has come from a man who has lived, what I would consider from his words, a rich life.

I only know Egal through his words only and often, there are times when I have felt their tangible guidance like a spirit, especially when life brings about its dismay.

I am savouring this book, bit by bit, and I carry this in my work bag, making sure too read it only when I am in the mood for poetry, because even in the slightest of ways I do not want to disrespect Egal’s words, by not giving it my cent percent attention.

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Celandines is just one poem from his book. I can ensure you it’s filled page by page with the kind of words that should never be overlooked or unheard.

The Navigator is available on Amazon, for those who are interested. Pic as always by yours truly.

 

Woodland floor

Morning sun

Hearts of green

With yellow hung

Some have seven

Some have nine

Petals

In the light to shine

First messengers

Of spring

A sign

Cheerful

Cheeky

Celandines.

Apple Blossoms

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Shine on bright little ones

In the garden of 

The month of May.

You sweet little lillies

Of apples- crisp and green

That will ooze tangy sugar 

to coat my tongue 

a dream,

with or without cinnamon

in pies bearing the colour 

of autumn and the

cheer of being together 

again.

Until then, my visit beckons

the endless charm of

your white blossoms.

Smiling at me from sunshine,

preening on my  hazy thoughts

this fleeting moment

as short as my time here.

Your bowls that will shrink to 

form the fruits of my joy

In the garden of

The month of May.

Here

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Sunshine streams through the heavy clouds above

Like a call of conscience from heaven.

Life outside moves with a horizontal vector

While I’m sat here, static and in inertia of limbo.

The lilacs I always looked up to for respite

Have grown pale into the spite of existence grey.

Time moves inch by inch, every swipe of the needle

But a smudge on our longevity and dent in our breath.

I have not spent much here, yet I feel like

I have been home forever, 

The shadow of a stranger in the glass,

Some long lost friend.

I fix my gaze upon nothing yet I’m lost

Even the field of dandelions held like 

Beads of crystal in the softness of dusk tried to call me out.

Maybe that is what it is. To be here and now.

When you are really no where any how.