The Faces of Arles

And what do you mean, the wind sleeps?

It snores, like a gluttonous swine,

Throws itself about, drunk

And dozed on a midsummer’s wine.

It folds and flattens the cypresses,

Blows lips into its leaves,

Kissing whistles

And dreaming pleasantly 

Of the mayhem that it weaves.

Soon, Summer will burn-dry,

Quit it’s empire

And surrender sunflowers

To invading Autumn.

These bleached husks,

Rows of parched corn,

Will be painted in the 

Frailty of flaxen hair.

And blackening puddles,

Tar threaded into isles

Untouched, these will

Be awoken in the gallow-strand

That wavers loosely, blackened

And spare.

And what do you mean, eternity

Is an invention of the quiet?

The momentary explosion 

Of knowing that silence 

Will come. 

The willingness to know,

That action, rumbles

Forever, unlike a tedious drum.

The world merged onto

Chatting teeth of a compatriot,

Clutching a carafe of ale.

The frailty of events that die,

All flesh, all thought, the dread

Of becoming stale.

J.A.G Mabbutt is a poet, film critic, and English Teacher from the East Midlands. Published across two literary magazines - Zimmer and Anarkiss, Mabbutt has also performed his poetry solo at local events and with the accompaniment of a fantastic local Jazz band. With a newly promised single of spoken word poetry and jazz being released in September, and a whole raft of weekly published material via jagpoetry on Instagram, Mabbutt intends to evolve.