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  • By John H. B. Martin

Eurydice


That was the Sistine Chapel, wedged between

our complex life and all that slept beneath

your kisses, and my curses, as we danced

love's simple dance beneath the midday moon.


Which might as well have been the midnight sun

the way you looked at me… (And I looked back!)


You could have walked along that look(to share

what dream?)as if it were a bridge across

some gentle streamor else lust's raging torrents.


I loved that look you gave me! It went such

a long way back it reached to where I stretched

my feet, almost, yet did not dare to fare

the way I stared at you, just then, upon

that Bridge of Sighs, close to the Source of Being.


Featured in forthcoming New Lyre Magazine


John H.B. Martin is a poet who lives in London, England. He is a graduate of London University and Australia National University and has been writing for many decades. He has written four novels and is working on a fifth. His magnum opus is a six-volume epic poem. Most of his work is yet to be published.

6 Comments


stewart.burke
Apr 05, 2023

Like John, I have never actually been to Venice. However, immediately before reading his transporting poem just now, I happened to have experienced La Serenissima via this painting:

https://artsandculture.google.com/asset/market-square-of-amalfi-oswald-achenbach/9AFC_2GYuJXzhA

Thank you, John, for making my sojourn in the Venice of my dreams so satisfying, and praise too to the God of Coincidence!

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martinmccarthy1956
martinmccarthy1956
Apr 05, 2023
Replying to

Thank you, Stewart for sharing the picture. The thought and the painting are much appreciated.

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martinmccarthy1956
martinmccarthy1956
Apr 05, 2023

That is so interesting. Thank you for replying to my comment.

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ddouthat09
ddouthat09
Apr 05, 2023

Strong are life's bridges between soulmates. And body mates too.

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martinmccarthy1956
martinmccarthy1956
Apr 05, 2023

This is a very fine poem, John. The internal rhymes and echoes really appealed to me. I had to read it aloud a number of times in order to experience their full effect. I was also particularly taken by the way you compared a lover's look to a bridge connecting two people, then linked that bridge to the Bridge of Sighs in the final verse, suggesting not only romance but the despairing fate of someone doomed to lose someone immeasurably precious. One cannot help but wonder whether the enchanting music of this poem has brought some past memory vividly back to life. Or were you in Venice recently with someone dear to you? I will definitely have to read it…

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jm6783685
jm6783685
Apr 05, 2023
Replying to

Alas, I've never been to Venice, Martin! But then perhaps that would take away from all the magic that even its very name evokes.


Literally, almost, my poems are dictated to me, from the first line to the last. And even the crafting doesn't seem to be my own. I'm merely a humble amanuensis. And it's simply a matter of carrying on at it until the poem feels right.


I find I have to enter an almost unconscious trance-like state to write at all. And that any degree of intellection only gets in the way. (Except in a very subservient manner.) There are poems of Yeats which, if you examine at the level of the head, do not make sense…

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