Liverpool Tales from the Mersey Mouth - A book by John Williams
"This is a wonderful collection of writings by
John Williams. While it isn't specifically about the Beatles,
they are clearly a part of the story, along with the very fiber
and fabric of the city that influenced him and them as well.
The pieces are short, well written and filled with a delicious
sense of humor that shines in the titles as well as the essays."
Jan Perry, Cincinnati Post
"John Williams writes in the language of Liverpool,
a Scouse scribe who brings to life the people and places, inner
thoughts and outer images, the vigour and vitality and essentially,
the iron humour of a unique city."
Bill Harry, founder of Mersey Beat
This is a sample of my poetry that had been consigned to poetry limbo for years. As Coleridge once remarked,
"Poems are never finished, they are simply abandoned."
Poetry is a solitary occupation and so I have never been part of any ink crowd. My poetry is a mixture of the formal, such as Villanelles, and free verse. Some of it is an attempt at a lyric form, and I suppose is more correctly called song. Poetry is a difficult medium for people as it presents a conflict of perception because it stems from an oral tradition thousands of years old, yet we insist on reading it as if it were prose and so we encounter problems of understanding. Poetry is nothing if not a motion picture show, a flowing stream of images carrying ideas in its meandering course. I hope you enjoy mine as it contains images of my life.
John Williams
Haikus from Hiroshima August 6th 1945
Like a small candle
Gutted by a spring typhoon
A child is blown out
The red rose snaps wide
Catching seed pearls in its eye
Forever blind now
It is an omen
Two sunrises in one day
I will stay abed!
A corpse rots sweetly
Swarming thick round a windfall
Wasps devour ripe fruit
The sky octopus
Cloudy and frightening beast
Spreads its filthy ink
The fire has been lit
It sucks hard the morning breeze
Whirlwinds waft the hearth
At the long rope's end
The convict tells the hangman
Eternity nears
Green tea flowing free
cold cup rooted to table
tea and cup are fused
Persimmon splits wide
Flesh flies in sweet surrender
Melting with love's flame
This is not Babel
We spoke but one tongue only
Where was our tower?
Limbs curling in heat
Bend in final obeisance
To the risen God
Blind in shadows blue
A beggar starts and cries out
I have seen the sun!
My thanks to Tim
Kelly and Brigitte C for the new look to my site