First Looks and Beyond: The Collected Poems of Ted Kotcheff Vol 2

By Ted Korcheff

His second published volume exhibits the same extraordinary vividness
and vigor that permeates the first, whether the subject be grief at his
Father's death, his youthful friendship with pro wrestler Sky Hi Lee, his
chat with a turkey vulture, or the mystery of the disappearing honey bee.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493128839

Ted Korcheff

As a distinguished director Ted Kotcheff needs no introduction. His canon of work includes a wide range of genres. From fi lms such as FUN WITH DICK AND JANE and WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S to the dark poetry of WAKE IN FRIGHT. Two of his fi lms have been named Cannes classics, receiving the ultimate accolade of the fi lm making world. In a parallel incarnation, in fulfillment of a lifelong dream, Ted Kotcheff made his debut on the literary stage in 2011 with the publication of THE COLLECTED POEMS.

Book preview

Contents

First Looks

First Words

The Ballad Of Sky Hi Lee

To Euterpe, Muse of Music

Turkey, An Encounter

Booby

The Pine Tree

Time And Alchemy

Farewell To A Friend

Grief

Waves

Epiphany

Numen

The Bee Chronicles

The Bee Chronicles

The Bee Chronicles

The Bee Chronicles

The Bee Chronicles

A Song

For my dear friend, Francis

What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies.

I would like to thank the following people:

Francis Chapman, who has been my editor for my two volumes of verse.

He reads my poetry with a profound understanding and perspicacity.

His suggestions are always to the point and compelling.

He has made invaluable contributions to each of the poems.

I know that he expends an enormous amount of time doing this and my gratitude to him is boundless.

And thanks again to Dylan Sheridan for his extraordinary original design work for the cover and within.

And finally, my beloved wife, Laifun.

I don't know sometimes, if I could go on without her encouragement and unflagging support. Thank you, my soul mate.

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First Looks

I close my aged eyes,

And there it is, no surprise,

The yellow wooden house

On Sydenham Street,

The yawning door and window trim

Of peeling chocolate brown,

All floating upside down.

On the ramshackle porch,

My aproned mother, screaming, weeping,

Her sister’s arm supporting,

And through the handrail peeping,

Eyes large with fright,

My baby cousin, Rudolf,

All on their heads,

Feet glued to the downside up veranda floor.

My mother thought I was no more.

I, a tyke, had toddled

Onto the horse-appled road,

When round the corner,

From Ontario Street,

Came a black Model A.

It never slowed.

Wham! I went flying!

Then straightaway

The Ford rode over

Where I lay

With demoniac wheels,

Front and back,

Howling squeals,

Leg bones crack,

The jeering enthronement

Of Happenstance.

After the assault,

I lay still as debris

On the black asphalt.

A deathly hush.

Uncle Stavro raised

The limp remains,

Its shattered legs, tire stained,

Protruding gristle and bone,

My mother unmoving,

Turned to stone.

My lifeless head,

Loosely lolling,

Hung backward

Over Stavro’s arm.

The sisters’ voices rose to heaven

With Slavic lamentation

Of funereal pain.

Roused from the dead,

Eyelids fluttered in my inverted head;

A strange first sighting:

A world overturned,

Straw-yellow home,

Pear-blossomed tree,

My barking Scottish collie

My keening family,

Downside up,

Upside down,

All topsy turvily.

Flowers and grass up