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Sunday, 18 February 2018

Seismic Sunday

Earthquake in South Wales!

Earthquake in South Wales, social networking reported,
'Don't contact us' begged the authorities,
'Unless you have something to report,
Nobody's hurt so chill out;
It's the weekend after all
So nobody's in the office,
Order another of what you fancy
Before you were rudely interrupted'.

Earthquake in South Wales, just a few plaster cracks
According to the early news,
No need to reach for insurance policies,
Pointless to evacuate;
'I felt it up here' posted Billy from Liverpool,
Yeah OK right,
I felt nothing in Aberystwyth
But I'd had a few you know.

© David Subacchi


David Subacchi lives in Wales (UK) where he was born of Italian roots. He studied at the University of Liverpool and has 4 published collections of his English Language poetry: First Cut (2012), Hiding in Shadows (2014), Not Really a Stranger (2016) and A Terrible Beauty (2016) as well as a collection in Welsh: Eglwys Yng Nghremona (2016).



Earth wave

Sat on a bench the first warm day of the year
Teens cuddle a phone mangling songs
A car parked, windows right down
the Swan's game fast and loud on the radio
two men talk diesel and body work
A couple, he's always borrowing
never paying, she's always late, only saying
A girl whining pleasepleaseplease!

immense weight like a small town
being dragged deep under the ground
shuddering up through my soles, my seat

closer, louder, deeper
like next door's crashing through all around
but I'm out in the park, there's not even a wall

some forgotten old thing turns right under our feet
reminding us all of its uneasy sleep
then just in a moment, the earth snaps back
all quiet and still

but the waitress in the café doorway still chanting I'm too young to die
dragged by the scruff from our long dream of safety
everyone asking What was that?

Later the stories of
rattling doors and shaking floors
dancing pipes, jiggling panes
glasses dancing, cups in saucers, forks on tables
and stock scrambling off shelves in the convenience store

© Phil Coleman


Phil Coleman lives near Swansea and tries to balance work and the need to write. At the age of 50 he's still a complete tyro at everything except juggling words.

1 comment:

  1. I love the detail in this, and the description of the tremor as 'some forgotten old thing' as though it's wanting revenge for being ignored.

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