Free Associative Gifts
Free Associative Gifts, is a regular place in Contexts where members can share poems and contribute to the creative life of the society. Poems for this issue are by Angelika Goltz, Tim Alexander and Tom Ormay, who has given us his poems in both Hungarian and English.
By Angelika Goltz
Somewhere in that Iron Hearth
Somewhere in that iron hearth
Is the flame
Persisting to stay alive.
We are looking for it
Searching for comfort to still our pain
For the voice to hope
After crushing disappointment.
When our hearts have fallen to our feet
We need help to hear
The crackling of fire in the iron hearth.
Quickly, bring wood and coal
To feed it into flames.
Then you will see the twinkling
in your children’s eyes,
the love you kindled in their soul,
the moment of purpose and bliss.
One day you finally know
Thoughts are caught
in the scrambled web of my mind.
I cannot find words.
And when thoughts are caught
they can fly
all over the place collecting data:
Numbed images filled with illusive fear,
thoughts unworthy of action
meaningless and haunting to the heart.
Where do you come from
distracting me from this life
and flooding my body as if its yours?
Give me back my feeling
which connects me to the order of things
and makes me know that I am here.
One day you might know me
Taking Turns
One turn
and lost in the maze
of omnipotent self accusation.
As if I had created the world
and the misery,
and purposefully mislaid my instructions to happiness!
I had forgotten that you are there,
not sensed your look on me,
still and waiting for me to speak to you.
And with another turn
I bump into you.
And we laugh and play the game of hide and seek.
And it’s only when I can’t find you that I feel dazed.
And sometimes feel happy
just as long as I keep turning.
By Tim Alexander
King
The first thing you’d hear
When a low one was near
Was the rattle of glass
As the beast made a pass.
Outside I would dash
As quick as a flash
And wave to the sky
As the king flew by.
Now who would’ve thought
Though I was home taught
That after ten years
I’d be fixing the gears
Of the very machine I saw at thirteen.
By Tom Ormay
Legjobb
Legjobb, ha vagyok csak ember.
Nem macsó ember,
Nem is nő ember,
De csak ember.
Legjobb, csak az élet.
Nem a jó élet,
Nem a rossz élet:
Emberélet.
Legjobb csak a halál.
Nem a szent halál,
Nem gonosz halál,
Ha jön a halál.
Legjobb a gyermekem.
Nem jó gyermekem,
Nem rossz gyermekem,
Az én gyermekem.
At best
At best I want to be a man.
Not a he man,
Not a she man,
But a human.
At best I want life.
Not a good life,
Not a bad life,
A human life.
At best I want to be dead.
Not a saint dead,
Not evil dead,
When I am dead.
At best I have a child.
Not a good child,
Not a bad child,
Only my child.
Látogatás
Ma reggel egy álmos pillanatban
Meglátogatott a halál.
Megjelent az ajtóburkolatban
Nyilván tudta, hogy itt talál.
Ahogy megláttam, tudtam, hogy ő volt
Csontok bár nem zörögtek és
Zengő harsona hangja se szólt ott,
Csendes volt a megjelenés.
Hivatalos egyszerűséggel lépett
Be hozzám, szürke öltönyben,
Komoly szemével tompán tekintett,
Fürkésző tekintetembe.
Kezével mélyen a mellkasomba nyúlt,
Valahol a szívem alá.
Ekkor az élet a lelkemben kigyúlt,
És nemet intettem reá.
Ő, mint ki dolgát ezzel elvégezte,
Vissza kiemelte kezét,
Megfordult és eltűnt a reggelbe,
Meg sem említette nevét.
Visitation
This morning, in a sleepy moment,
Death came to visit me.
He appeared in the deep doorway, and
Knew where I would be.
As I saw him I knew who he was there,
Even if no bones
Rattled, nor trumpets bugled where
He quietly rose.
With official simplicity he
Came in a grey suit.
With his serious eyes lit, dimly
Looked into my look.
He put his hand into my chest
Underneath my heart.
But then I felt that life was best,
Head shaking, I denied.
Like someone, who did his deed,
With this removed his lame
Hand, turned, disappeared, and did
Not even leave his name.
Odakint
Odakint valaki hazatéved.
Out there
Out there, somebody wanders home.
Please send poems for publication in future issues to Marcus Price at lbwplumb@gmail.com