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Posts Tagged ‘“Poetry”,’

 

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The Sea’s waves

Fat

Heavy with the Moon’s oily light

Moon glow seaside Bundoran

Ginger rimmed

Caked in winter’s corona of cloudy night

The town glows too

From above seen

The waves take on the pores

Of skin swept sea

All held firm this

Extra

Given

Night

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Five hares on a morning field

Five ways to wake early

To glorious sunshine.

Spring’s clocks springing forward

Bringing me stumbling out early across the yard

My myopic squintings

Saluting the sun.

To be

Startled at the springing forward of the hares,

At their desperate hurtling away

And them disappearing into the back bog.

From where I was never to see them again.

Binoculars squinting serving only to point out

‘..the difference between a Hare

And a rock in a field?

If you see it move it’s a rock’.

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Oh, but how do drunk people get home?
I wonder
But…
How do drunk people get home?
My careening well…
Scars and scurf
And a long whole ago
….that pill in the morning in the clinic
that pill…
Hmm…
But how do drunk people get home?
I met the man with the box of frogs and had occasion to ask him
Feeling that the rain would stay off a while
as I sheltered under his hanging umbrella
He was too busy to answer
Much too busy,
The boxing of frogs and the herding of cats
Taking up
Way way too much of his time!
But it’d come to a pretty pass
If the only weavers of dreams left to us
Were to be the joke of the bank
(Their jokes are cruel)
And the many sellers of smoke
They there
Still there
There in the glam of the threadbare glade.

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There are deep words that sound
Sound throughout the doings of a day
Working, Running, Cooking
Hillwalking
Can cover them for a spell.
But as a bell  clanging
The tension of the sound carries.
So there are words  there
From behind trees
Around buildings
Along byways
And main  roads.
In places where people gather
And are alone
There
On waking

And at the pause before sleep
For me now the deep sound
And the words
Merge into
The sound of your name
And the answering echo

Calling in my heart’s space
Your name before me.

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gingercrowd

We posted a week or two ago about the great scrolls found in a Canister in Norway by Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist and hot water blower upper that told the story of Ginger Volk.

You can read Part 1 Here; Part 2 Here; Part 3 Here, Part 4 Here and Part 5 Here

Now ’tis time for Part 5……..

THE GINGER SCROLLS – THE DEPARTURE continued……

earth

 

One of our number, Strik, bade us farewell and leapt to his death, honoured to be with his kin in after world favouring their affections to those of us still alive. His choice his Way.

Upon the prow of our ships, Narwhals guided us through the disdainful water, their tusks like beacons of light in the grey murk, guiding our navigators to sail with some knowledge of where our desolate future lay.

To each side of our vessels dolphins swam as outriders, to inform and protect the flame haired of any advancing danger or destitute Huplanders who dared to do battle still.

 

seal

Great birds, sent by their brother Exeretheon the Night Flyer squalled above the vessels, eyeing the clouds, wind and future light and the greatest of them the size of a small motorway service station (this may be an error in translation), would defecate on Kerkhof the Pilot of the lead vessel, with messages of the course to be taken.

Man, woman and child, in lard hair boats were carried by desolate winds of despair and the surly tides of bondage. For 173 days we ventured south towards unknown worlds and peoples we had so studiously sought to avoid these previous eons.

easter 2

We made our peace with the green eyed sea for safe passage. And still mother Sun refused to appear to help or woes lighten and our misery.

Silver gilded Gryphon’s spied upon our desperate journey and their spectral presence haunted even the youngest amongst us. Only Exeretheon’s brothers prevented attacks. For evil’s granite claw has dug its black heart into our people and is determined to make us suffer with every cruel twist of the fates.

everest copy

 

From each vessel our volk peeled low murmurs to reason with our Gods for safe passage and sanctuary and to cry for the loss of homes, kith, kin and kilns. Oh Tragedy! Oh despair from whence we came, to where we go, we know not save for the lone Pilots of our own destiny, guiding the last of our volk to a future unwritten and unknown.

Sing for the dead

Sing for the living

Sing for the forgotten

Sing for the weary, the tired and the vanquished

Sing of mirth and good nature

Sing to life

Sing my song my love when I am far away

For I shall sing for you

simon_cowell goetta copy

Our incantations, as tradition dictated would continue for the time between day and night, when the winds turned against us. On we would sing, bitter salted tears stinging our eyes and grazing our sallow, dirtied cheeks, but we would not stop as the words gave us comfort and hope as if our past was with us in the present and so we could see a future.

Our flame coloured hair billowed like sparks of fire in the mocking sea breeze, assailing our features and licking our faces like tongues of spitting flame and the people of the lands we traveled past considered our vessels aflame. Even the tawdry gulls afeared, squawking their desultory announcements.

Where we venture from, our land cruelly taken from us by famine and the curse of the fear and famine forged into evil intent by Overath and his minions, was unknown to many who saw us float past them, nor could they fathom or dared ask as we sailed along the coast of Hupland.

Shoreliners, peasants and warriors alike, eager to see us on our way from their barren coastal lands forged a peace with each other in doing so. As we approached night would fall, the Sun abandoning these places also. Even mother Sun was abandoning us to our fate in near Southern lands. The Shoreliners and their protectors invoked the voices of their Gods for wrath to be visited upon our wretched band of kin to move us from their lands and allow precious light to restore its benevolence upon their lands. For famine too had wreaked great suffering along these lands.

As the Hup Chronicles say “There these carriers of doom, these harbingers of evil, and these soulless beasts moved along the coast murmuring and chanting to our gods for evil mercy to fall upon us for the passage of sin conducted by the drowned Overath and his blooduse minions. Had they been abandoned by our deities for foul deeds done foully or had they failed to pay homage to our Gods for protection?

Across the land the people begged for Valhalla’s curse to be lifted and mighty Odin to protect them from the reek of evil these red haired people came imbued with. Curse upon them and their kin we would cry and we would launch stones, rocks and leather leggings out to the cold, green swell in an attempt to ward the flame hairs from landing on our land. But the flame hairs never looked towards land. Instead they maintained a regal pose aboard their proud ships made of lard and hair and steadily floated toward the place the great sea creatures and sea birds were leading them to. For some of us it became a beautiful sight to behold – a broken people together in life and death.” (The Hup chronicles are available in hard back from any good bookshop).

Our tears do fall into the sea

Our hearts are broken wrenched as we are from home

Our hopes are battered upon the brooding swell

But we shall meet again of that I am sure my friend

In a land of peace and Sun

 

We trusted our senses and we paid fealty to our guides and no amount of leather leggings would dispel us from this aim.

On the vessels sailed, beyond the fear and callous overtures of the mortal Shoreliners – our phalanx of sea creature’s guiding us to our unknown destination. Our people’s thoughts finally turning to warmer kinder thoughts, of dance and merriment of love and laughter. Perhaps the great tragedy that lay in the recesses of the far North could be laid to rest.

Some swore they saw mother Sun beyond the horizon, at last revealing her to us after wait so long and tragic. Hope built once more.

But it was not to be.

To be continued………

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gingercrowd

We posted a week or two ago about the great scrolls found in a Canister in Norway by Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist and hot water blower upper that told the story of Ginger Volk.

You can read Part 1 Here; Part 2 Here; Part 3 Here and Part 4 Here

Now ’tis time for Part 5……..

THE GINGER SCROLLS – THE DEPARTURE continued……

earth

 

“The lard hair boats, be our saviour!” he cried. Many hand mocked his father’s insistence on lashing lard and spare hair together into vessels three sun cycles previously, a mad eyed Karibou they called him, but now his foresight was praised for we, the remnants of the Ghingar Empire could finally set about our future with renewed vim and vigour.

seal

“For when we sail

To far off shores

What shall we see?

What will our children say?

What will be their final word on us?

That we fled our lands, their future home

That we banished them from their destiny?

That we stole their souls?

That we gave them life?

That we gave them destiny?

That we could in our darkest hours afford them hope?

What will they say?

I hope it is kind”

easter 2

And so friend, we sailed with deep tears in our hearts to witness farewell to our time and our peace. Leaving the lee of the mighty river Sallopian, for so long our source of protection we floated into the gloating Northern seas.

As we set south, the God of Ice, Rijsbergen, sent forth his messengers to guard and guide us through these a dark desolate places populated only by the ghoulish memory of drowned adventurers from time immemorial, their frozen faces etched into the ice that gaoled them.

(Oh Archangel Galleofron where are you to protect your soul keepers? We need you more than ever. Not since the time of the arrival of the Shoelace People have we sought your protective cloak and twig of justice.)(Note; Twig may in fact be sword but the lettering is unclear)

We sail in peace to new found lands

To find our loves who have left before us

We hope that we shall meet again

But even if we do not

Know that you sail with us!

everest copy

 

Our Ice Guardians, Neeskens and Jongbloed, great slabs of ice, hewn from their Kingdom’s lands at the earliest memory, their faces etched with age and shaped by the sear of the sun and the freeze of the cold, moved south with us and slowly saw our homeland diminished. A deep, still sadness fell upon us as the distance formed between us and our home of memories and kin.

simon_cowell goetta copy

One of our number, Strik, bade us farewell and leapt to his death, honoured to be with his kin in the after world favouring their affections to those of us still alive. His choice his Way.

Upon the prow of our ships, Narwhals guided us through the disdainful water, their tusks like beacons of light in the grey murk, guiding our navigators to sail with some knowledge of where our desolate future lay.

To each side of our vessels dolphins swam as outriders, to inform and protect the flame haired of any advancing danger or destitute Huplanders who dared to do battle still.

Of which there were many.

 

 

To be continued………

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