The Repose of Baghdad
Published in ‘Sandgrain and Hourglass’ (Bloodaxe Books, 2010)
and I don’t see how we can,
it won’t be on the Avenida del Poeta Rilke
in Ronda,
or by the banks of the green Guadalquiver
or in Granada
where the sunset goes on till midnight,
it won’t be in any of those houses by the sea
we called our own,
or in the Plaza Abul Beka
where the house martins feed their fledglings
in mud-
where the foal above the fountain
watches his moon shadow
on the wall of an inn old when Cervantes knew it,
and it won’t be up in the mountains
where at the hottest hour of the day
one hundred thin long-
If I ever see you again
it won’t be in the water mirrors
of the Alhambra
or in a building
that doesn’t know if its a cathedral
or a mosque
or by the fountains of the Garden of the Poets
in the Alcazar Real
or in the dark oratory
where they keep the writing bones
of St Juan de la Cruz, gift-
And if I ever travel north,
you won’t be sitting beside me
on the bus to Silverknowles,
Clovenhorn or Rosewell.
If I ever sleep with you again
it won’t be in our own eager bed
or in that haunted hotel four-
or on board the QE2 well below the waterline,
we won’t sleep together
in any friend’s spare bed
or on a neighbour’s floor
after some burst pipe emergency
or in that hilarious sleepless bed
of our first year together,
no, if we ever meet again
(and how can we?)
it will be in a summer time has lost track of,
in a back-
two steps past the old Synagogue
and the dens of the silversmiths,
within the white walls
and behind the black window grilles
of The Repose of Baghdad,
still bearing, see it?
its faded sign of star and crescent moon.
The Scattering
Published in ‘Sandgrain and Hourglass’ (Bloodaxe Books, 2010)
Be lake, or random moon.
Be first light,
lifting up its beggar’s cup.
I scatter your ashes.
Be the gale teaching autumn
to mend its ways,
or leopard so proud of his spotted coat.
Be the mentor of cherry trees.
I cast your dust far and wide,
a sower broadcasting seed:
Be wild rose or hellebore or all-
Descend as a vein of silver,
never to be seen,
deep in the lynx-
Rise as barn owl white as dusk;
dove or raven marvelling at his flight.
Know different delights.
Sandgrain and Hourglass
By Penelope Shuttle. Published by Bloodaxe Books, 2010
‘Sandgrain and Hourglass’, charts a variety of transactions between poet-
wound and beast. A major preoccupation is her continuing experience of loss, particularly the way
time modulates and redefines grief.
Some aspects of human experience can be too painful or difficult to bear except through poetry. As
Ted Hughes said, "poetry is a way of speaking to people we've lost when it is too late". In these poems
as in her previous book ‘Redgrove's Wife’ Shuttle continues such conversations with her husband
Peter Redgrove, her father Jack Shuttle, and her close friend L.H.S., among others.
"A wonderful book of poetry of love and loss by Penelope Shuttle about her late husband, poet
Peter Redgrove. It spoke to me very strongly, having lost my own husband not so long ago."
Maureen Lipman, Daily Express
Cornwall Contemporary Poetry Festival
Will be held in Falmouth, from Thursday 22
to Sunday 25 November 2018
Penelope Shuttle has made her home in Cornwall
since 1970 and the county’s mercurial weather and
rich history are continuing sources of inspiration.
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