Iron Harvest

Crops sown so many years ago:
Across miles,
One way,
Then returned,

Echo for echo:
Stony ground,
Killing fields,
Soft impact
Confusing
Simple fuses.
Mental blocks, reparations,
Seeds wait, forgotten:
Messages gone astray,
History not getting through.
Quietly, she leaves the shop
Walks numbly past lists of names.
The bell on the spring
Rings for a long, long time.
Iron harvest still being gathered.

No Challenge.

 

So far away,

Yet close enough,

Those northern mountains

Of the young-spring moon

Hide us well –

My wolf brother and I .

Sixteen horses?

So few?

Five times that

Would be no challenge.

Hear our voices,

Between the

Wind and thunder,

In the bear-claw nighthours.

I was here:

Know my name

Eye, Dollar, Tree.

“Oil is the new diplomacy-

The way to power of course-

Debt is the new and most fashionable honesty,

Shareholders the latest terrorists,”

The clown-president

With the burger-wide smile

Mouths the Doctor Spin phrases.

The elephant leans left,

The horse swings right;

The latest polls hold the key –

The one that nobody can really grasp –

“I wouldn’t vote for that,

There’s plenty more whales

In the sea!”

Marvellous!

I may be a spider-bitten, better drawn character

In a different-hour, other-hero world

Who’ll leave his loved one’s near- seduction-moment chamber

To ensure the dastardly scheme’s never fully unfurled.

 

But, when I’m holding this brass-padlock key

I’m on the allotment; it’s time for me

For once in life I keep up with the plot

Please give me one chance to enjoy this lot.

 

I may be a social-miracle worker,

The patience of Job, all hours of the clock

Have the spark energy and thick skin of elite berserker

Be someone capable of shrugging off shock.

 

But be aware that inside these gates

I’ve paid my annual have-privacy fee

I don’t need to know what’s on your slates

For while I’m holding the line I’m free.

 

Yesterday,perhaps I had the strength of Samson,

The tricks of Merlin, the grace of a leopard

Tomorrow maybe I’ll have the skills of Shakespeare

The attitude of a Pele, be a cool, monetary wizard.

 

But, right now, wearing these wrecked-knee jeans

And completely understanding what’s going on with the plot

You need to understand what the Yoda phrase means:

Disturbed, do I want to be ? Not!

Daughter Mine.

Maybe –

She realised it so suddenly,

It actually caused physical pain –

She’d spent too damned-long

With her sleepless head

Inside a dark box of quiet,

Chocolate-bitter thunder

That echoed and repeated,

Stitching restless days together.

Continue reading

Down the Infinity Track

Just a little shy of the

Mountain-naked witch hour

She comes, full pelt,

Throttles locked wide open

As never before: headin’

For the tunnel that

Separates. Continue reading

Finish

 

 

Hoping to be forgiven here for re-posting something that came to me this time last year, following the shocking

finish to the Boston Marathon in New England. Since then I have actually visited New England and walked the Boston streets …

and the “anniversary” was featured on BBC News today.

The piece I had written for today will just as easily be here tomorrow, but this one should be here today – a reminder and my respects paid.

 

marathon

Terrible sounds and memories from a

Long gone troubled English evening

Tumbling over and over, reach me:

Carried on a Patriot wind.

Charity and lavender dreams shattered,

Runner camaraderie staggered

– Hopefully only temporarily –

Here in the original Tea Party City

– Where a different way to

Make a point was born.

We, the naïve, the unsuspecting

May make such easy casual-slaughter victims;

But remember  your secret,

Dark-mask shadows

Are not welcome here …

The fact that you can

Gives you no rights.

Please let this finish line

Be the last.

 

Image: http://www.telegraph.co.uk