Armada
Brian Patten
Through the fads and fashions of the last thirty years Brian Patten has remained true to his own personal vision of poetry. Whether composing lamentations to the terrible beauty of human love, or writing his outstanding popular verse for children, he has continued to articulate and illuminate the joys and sorrows of the everyday world.His reputation has been enhanced progressively by each of his collections, and now with translations into numerous languages including Italian, Spanish, German and Polish he is acknowledged as one of Europe's foremost contemporary poets. Through his performance work he is certainly one of Britain's most popular poets.This new book of poems is Patten's eighth for adults. With its powerful opening section interweaving poems about the death of his mother and memories of his childhood with her, it is at one and the same time his most personal and universal collection. It is a book of remarkable poems offering sharp insights into life and the human condition.
BRIAN PATTEN
Armada
DEDICATION (#ulink_796f576c-d742-5475-8cee-86db299f5de4)
For my mother, Irene Stella Bevan
CONTENTS
Cover (#ubdfc695b-95e3-5a7d-b38b-6fd2967fff61)
Title Page (#u3c460c15-da75-564c-910d-33456c256836)
Dedication (#u3bcb4a7b-40f2-5bc1-91dc-d4c2f434addd)
Epigraph (#u12dc0157-9c01-5457-b60d-308028ce08c3)
1 the armada (#u79c45710-8875-5e66-a94f-7f2a5c11b076)
Cinders (#u58a5c098-04be-5bf1-a6fe-c220029c174b)
The Armada (#u065df42f-af4e-58af-9dea-dd840f84a0a9)
The Betrayal (#u475c7f92-137d-554f-ab4f-93818ed4742b)
The Eavesdropper (#ud7a3ba13-46ab-5517-82e9-4eb9bf6fbcae)
Echoes (#ub9421b4a-6a27-5871-8ed1-a469911006c3)
Neighbourhood Watch (#uee0c3b53-0786-5d80-8f33-038afad7e376)
Inattention (#uc5015c2a-d5ce-5c2d-ad17-a4db3bb7d456)
Juggling in the Crematorium (#u7c4eb4e9-2b9e-5dea-a465-8d21dcaa9ac0)
Stepfather (#u26882e64-32f6-58aa-aef5-ca5c4448e3c6)
The Nightlight (#u814aae51-a271-5f35-8336-89cdcf940db4)
An Incident (#ubd5d3f93-2fe6-5262-8602-a666228909d2)
Ward Sixteen (#u38077f6f-a358-5b4c-ad91-164835d1b154)
Ebb Tide and the Sparrow (#u4ad3adfe-7b60-5363-8732-ae0b4f17ada9)
The Khardoma (#u2194656f-d1da-5063-a12a-b6b812808f8a)
In the Dark (#ue796df09-cbe8-58f8-bbe9-8f421baaf231)
Ghost Ship (#uc3b78d8f-fbf1-597a-b512-b1899b42de14)
Five Down (#ub91aedff-ce94-5f53-ab12-ac03943247e0)
2 between harbours (#u25f7758e-7e90-5ad5-8faa-b3e16cd5fa67)
These Boys Have Never Really Grown into Men (#u0ef22ae8-e57a-5974-b94c-b1251e2d3eb9)
The Word (#u7f812267-e965-5150-b8a0-62811e02165e)
Don’t Ask (#u6bc6c62f-bf61-51e4-8cbd-81f65772c71b)
Survivor (#u3b932b92-f834-5815-b4ff-cd63ea1406ef)
Her Coldness Explained (#u8930b55e-ed0b-5d81-a2ad-0aaadfc89b43)
What I Need for the Present (#u11ee01d1-13e1-5ecb-ba93-140da109d3a3)
The Sick Equation (#u434f09dd-54b5-5d71-9364-2aea4d344249)
The Recognition (#uf58c81c6-31c9-53fa-9277-23f93ef688e9)
Dear Thief (#ucacae7ca-f077-57d2-bf1f-33efbf7024aa)
An Obsession (#u117ed20b-fe03-52fd-8995-1ce0088b4348)
The Wife (#u02c05018-e999-5747-b966-2dae18460527)
Hooks (#uc62c7b6f-12cd-5503-b47e-c3eeaa6a6ab6)
April Morning Walk (#u729be364-e88a-5549-a6bb-d1945ae3e198)
Act Two (#ubdb661a4-6f7a-5d20-9cda-c353e3aaf5ca)
Waiting (#u3e71d6ed-48ed-5561-ae81-f0a5d8d830df)
Our Lives Had Grown so Empty (#u021c157f-19e9-5da8-b52f-46f13db7abbd)
3 inessential things (#ucab602f6-4d0e-581d-ae86-d0f06376c78c)
Inessential Things (#u21bc3f76-781b-5fdb-aa5b-1968d27ab1e4)
Minister for Exams (#uc6ba8c15-9e0d-56e3-aae2-b9a716104785)
Tina’s Flight (#ub0159bce-d444-5f22-b49b-576281d84a42)
Devilment (#u5fd3f21c-f3ae-57a1-8ab4-eea669759a72)
Why Things Remained the Same (#uba771725-c3a0-57db-a449-a2b08e3d7bd1)
Poetry Lesson (#u5132857f-3eee-5edc-92d7-304526fd3b8f)
Waiting in Macedonia (#ucd93505e-3505-5b31-9f62-897c7af8e8c1)
Khartoum (#ufe8b99cb-787a-59ab-b115-ab7cbb2e6fd5)
Lockerbie (#ue07f9728-2364-56f0-802c-cd353f8738f4)
So Many Different Lengths of Time (#u26eac767-86c5-56b7-86f4-032b37b01647)
Drinking to the Muse (#uca1cbd33-3614-590f-a612-bcbab5d71cb2)
Circus Act (#uca9fa840-a4ea-55fa-978c-9136056c933c)
The Mirror’s Apprentice (#ue8d61fa8-7321-5c55-9966-a1797feb5975)
Garden Lore (#u77f73965-6e47-580a-ac09-7ca2df690329)
In Perspective (#u93b45906-f2ac-5780-a6cc-3cc578dbc9e7)
Full Circle World (#u0f81cc19-b6b3-5789-abd9-0c75079bdafa)
Into the Blue (#u120a6df0-854a-546d-a6af-3cabc75fd7fa)
Sea Saw (#ud444c735-335e-5554-978a-6210a7602b67)
The Brackets (#u66ca764b-e214-5f3b-b85b-997e8c756b9d)
Keep Reading (#u310fb795-093a-513f-ac47-8a7d2939785d)
Acknowledgements (#ucb158f95-c5bd-57d6-bf80-58966105696c)
About the Author (#u2943a969-36b0-5d45-9230-c68939e94e92)
Other Works (#u10d57de7-8fe0-5bc1-828a-0fe800ae03d6)
Copyright (#ubd0e98fb-afb2-5bfd-afd6-bd719b7aa647)
About the Publisher (#u1d474719-2af8-5183-be86-3de52ecbb913)
1 the armada (#ulink_dae0483a-7dd3-5aa8-ba3f-3ddc1c2f2b49)
Cinders (#ulink_1400b61a-aa32-5ef3-9b2a-57fdde658860)
You never went to a ball, ever.
In all your years sweeping kitchens
No fairy godmother appeared, never.
Poor, poor sweetheart,
This rough white cloth, fresh from the hospital laundry,
Is the only theatre-gown you’ve ever worn.
No make-up. Hair matted with sweat.
The drip beside your bed discontinued.
Life was never a fairy-tale.
Cinders soon.
The Armada (#ulink_050229d2-32e0-5c1d-87ef-08915cc65812)
Long long ago
when everything I was told was believable
and the little I knew was less limited than now,
I stretched belly down on the grass beside a pond
and to the far bank launched a child’s armada.
A broken fortress of twigs,
the paper-tissue sails of galleons,
the waterlogged branches of submarines –
all came to ruin and were on flame
in that dusk-red pond.
And you, mother, stood behind me,
impatient to be going,
old at twenty-three, alone,
thin overcoat flapping.
How closely the past shadows us.
In a hospital a mile or so from that pond
I kneel beside your bed and, closing my eyes,
reach out across forty years to touch once more
that pond’s cool surface,
and it is your cool skin I’m touching;
for as on a pond a child’s paper boat
was blown out of reach
by the smallest gust of wind,
so too have you been blown out of reach
by the smallest whisper of death,
and a childhood memory is sharpened,
and the heart bums as that armada burnt,
long, long ago.
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