Murder’s Professor

Fierce-proud crow-piper am I

On Prospero’s good-wind, miller days,

Born of winter raven-burn,

Murder’s elegant professor,

Confessor to fictions.

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The Passing Traffic

From the frozen-gutter pulpit

Outside the chase-road Church

Of the Old Blow-Down Birch

The animated, grizzled-curate crow

Rants and roars at all

The passing traffic,

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The Two-Way Door

“Why must you always let the shiver-dark in?”

She asks, this breathless,

Green-eyed glimmer princess.

“You don’t have to open

The two way door every time the

Night-wolf within you stirs.

Look away from the sinister glass;

Close your ears to the

Blacksnake whispers,

Tarry no longer in the malicious 

Shadows of Envy Forest.”

She’ s right, she’s right

I accept the fact, but

Raven-feather thunder is

Marching closer, testing my feeble resolve.

And, though my romance fairy is far away

I’m hoping she feels me resisting;

Will dance words with me again

When storm and doubt have passed.

23/7/2013

 

One- Phrase Raven

When the name, emerging from

Gothic candle shadows,

Became familiar,

It all started to

Shuffle into place:

A time, a plot, a face.

The garrulous

Be afraid parrot

Becoming the One-phrase raven.

No surprises there.

So … why am I

Going back to that well?

 

20/6/2013