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Len Mullenger Editor
in Chief:John Quinn
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A FEW OF RICHARD STOKER’S POEMS Written Mainly Between 1956-1960 Most of these poems were written by the composer around the time of his visit to Arthur Benjamin in London. However I have included a couple of later works which have a musical interest.
NOONTIME the city in busy day time after time of endless movement in decay of morning the blind turmoil of life's intense hurry in search of the sun whose molten rays weep currents through opaque clouds
NIGHTWALK leaves fall fanlike over blank thoughts disinterested gaze picture vaguely visual moving slowly out of focus weaving mistily out of mind
WINTER TREES wind blown wonders bent brown boughs stretching limbs gaping leafless branches trunkless wonders branchless stems web winded silhouetted against grey skies
AUTHOR OF ULYSSES iron intellect literary lion shocker of the twenties singing songs to the proud penelope you the bard of the pianola weaving dreams dung-like of discovery tightening your influence over oxford poets
SNOWFALL the snow falls grass trees hedges are topped with crystal the snow falls out with brush and shovel the houseowner in waterproof snow covered cap and coat his will to move and remove sweep and shovel again and again the snow falls
ELEGY FROM THE SUBCONSCIOUS his life's labours were not in vain for the elbow lust of life's pain and dart distrust of the thoughtless flow of darkened conceits were his whether his conscience in debating right or his opinion in shunning wrong was right his was happily granted will answered and obeying thoughts of deep doubt self pitied nought nor attained by abstract wish
RIVER RUN the river runs in shadow translucent splendour overhung the green grass moss of fishes in shadow the river runs
WOMAN FROM CALVADOS what was this girl for the one from calvados did she know beforehand in the many hours of waiting what was to be her vocation how could such a simple mind plan such a sly and useful move like a cat about to pounce on a mouse
TRANSITIONS sitting alone I hear the quiet chatter of many people eagerly awaiting some news of friends from other years or times or other places often the changing face of someone many months or years apart in time
(Written at London airport the day before The Beatles arrived back from the USA) - RS
IN MEMORIAM FRANCIS POULENC (January 30th 1963)
pen
in hand you take your final devotion
your
colleagues continue at a pitch much
lower
the
pen is taken from stiff fingers
the
spirit remains in its finest intonation
the
harp is silent in its mourning and
a single
voice finding its final repose [The above was written near Paris the day after Francis Poulenc died] - RS
MY OLD PIANO - A CHILD'S SONG long after all have gone upon a deserted dusty stage where three months passed a show was staged I came upon a piano brown and long as no one's there I make this sound on this old piano against the wall in window light it stands and reaching up my head and hands I see trees and pavements black and white a sort of draughts my fingers walk upon them in the centre where it's bright now when I explore with fingertips and step that's sure I find the darkest farthest ends are fun to reach with thumb and finger here my friends galore sing and dance with me this song fairies at top and giants below and if I stretch out further the fairies sing the giants shout together and coming closer elves and gnomes and pixies battle for its sunny centre now when all is done my friends return to the farthest ends of my old piano to two brown stones where they must live for once behind a chair I hid and watched a man dust them away but they returned to sing and play the next day
All Poems Ó Richard Stoker
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