Does Anybody ?

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Was it only me

That noticed?

Did you notice?

Did anybody notice

That there’s nowt to notice

On the notice board?

That there’s been

Nowt to notice

On the notice board

For longer than the committee

Would care to notice ?

-Since they moved it into the hedgerow

So that people would notice.

The notice board is notice free;

Been no notices since

Two thousand and three.

If people noticed this

Lack of notices,

They may have stopped noticing

The notice board at all;

Maybe you’ve noticed

That nobody, these days,

Notices.

Or is it only me

That notices?

All You Get Back …

Comes a time

When the trees, like the clouds,

The waves, the mountains

No longer answer your questions.

leastwise if they do –

You cannot hear,

Or make sense, of them.

Doesn’t mean you have to

Stop asking,

Or give up all faith.

But, surely, when all

You get back is silence

You need to realise

It’s time to start to

Work it out for yourself.

Tryin’

Tryin’ to get some slack,

Free my brain,

Make livin’ jus’

A little less rough:

No easy task, trus’ me now,

On labour’s Boredom Road.

On my way home from

The needle factory;

Prospects gone like

Mice in a cat’s home.

Eased back, took a drag.

Watched the clouds doin’

Their eternal calc’lation dances:

Mapping the atmosphere, assessing

The differences, shiftin’ shapes,

Tradin’ energies, motherin’

The winds, sketchin’ the seasons,

Stretchin’ time.

 

Such A Storm … NaPoriMo, day 26.

Such a storm is brewing

That will shake the faith of priests,

Move mountains, leave

Devastation’s awe behind.

See the unholy bruise-glow pressure

Build over the Marches, the

Shark bellied cloud roil and

Press on new-leaved oaks.

Such a tempest will first be hot, dry,

Then by degree cold and soul-deep damp;

Whose winds will lift thatch, the wings of ravens

That perch on funeral long-ship sails.

There will be crackle-snake lightnings

That lick the belladonna crevasses of nimbus,

Bend the prayers of fearful mortals and

resound  down the throats of

All the Hells that have ever been.

Such gales that will shift landmarks, so that

New dawn locals stupefied and stunned by the clamour

And new landscape will be witless:

“Where is the henge?”

“Where the mill?”

Roads will be sundered,

Valleys filled with split rocks and earth

As the very hills seek to fill up the cave – ears.

Nothing will be as it was;

Points will have been made,

The unworthy reduced to gibbering wrecks

(Aren’t we all, anyway,

Just the fifty shades of clay?)

Those that stand staunch, resolute,

Through what is approaching, as if

From the deranged cells of

Twisted-by-jealousy Heracles’ mind

Will deserve their places

On the pantheon.

Slave ?

Image result for slave

She is wholly mine

To command,

To define;

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

When I take her

– My time, my place – she

Responds, so fantasy-easy and willing,

To my every whim: heavy restraint, whip,

Silken hood, smeared with honey,

Blindfolded, costumed.

She mews, smiles; in turns quiet,

Banshee, submissive, giving.

Whatever I would she takes it,

Makes it wholesome.

She will never forsake …

Who am I fooling?

She is my sometime April muse

And will soon be gone like

May morn frosts.

Is It Possible ? NaPoWriMo day 23

Image result for st george and the dragon

I want this to be a proper drama;

One of those delightful-in-the-end stories  …

That begins with a modest, under sung hero

Journeying , let’s say northwards.

It has to be against adversity

And to challenge overwhelming odds

And maybe not begin too well.

The dragon-foe is too cunning,

Uses artifice perhaps, or

The opposition tribe too powerful,

At least it appears the case …

But neither can best our hero

And his honest, hard won skills.

And we will stand straight, sit still,

We will shake our spears,

Proudly hold our red-cross shields

And fill the arena with noise and choruses

About gods saving queens …

If you can end it famously.

Is it possible bard?

Image result for william Shakespeare