MONK
(Thelonious that is...)
Butterflies stop by,
(the man with the funny hats is playing)
dancing, they sashay, shimmy, and soft-shoe-shuffle.
He dances a little himself: puppet jerking to the tenor's syncopation;
then back to dissecting the blues, searching, trawling the deeper dissonant strain -
plotting the saddest sadness.
Today, he is gone, the man with the funny hats;
...the butterflies dance on
holy roller
this is your story
this is your song
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Saturday, September 5, 2015
BULLY
------------
He was the bully;
pumelling on the new kid day after day,
his sycophants baying for blood -
(they'd get it soon enough).
It was during training for the school leaving dance
(americanised to 'prom' now I believe);
the teacher had left the hall and the boys were indulging
in some light-hearted horse-play,
in the course of which the new boy bumped into the bully,
who immediately raised his fists, ready for the usual
( sycophants baying).
Suddenly: silence!
for the new boy had raised his fists, and with a lightning jab drew blood -
one blow and it was all over! apart from an artistic display of back- peddling
from the bully until teacher returned.
The sycophants got their blood - did it matter whose, I wonder?
Later I asked him how he managed it - he just didn't know;
he knew it had happened - the bully carried a black-eye for a week -
but he had no idea how he did it.
AH!
to know that something is working mysteriously in our favour!
school fight
smelling blood from him
next day
------------
He was the bully;
pumelling on the new kid day after day,
his sycophants baying for blood -
(they'd get it soon enough).
It was during training for the school leaving dance
(americanised to 'prom' now I believe);
the teacher had left the hall and the boys were indulging
in some light-hearted horse-play,
in the course of which the new boy bumped into the bully,
who immediately raised his fists, ready for the usual
( sycophants baying).
Suddenly: silence!
for the new boy had raised his fists, and with a lightning jab drew blood -
one blow and it was all over! apart from an artistic display of back- peddling
from the bully until teacher returned.
The sycophants got their blood - did it matter whose, I wonder?
Later I asked him how he managed it - he just didn't know;
he knew it had happened - the bully carried a black-eye for a week -
but he had no idea how he did it.
AH!
to know that something is working mysteriously in our favour!
school fight
smelling blood from him
next day
MENDING
----------------
Home from Helmand; one hand less; nerves a bag of marbles.
Home to cry and cry:
his dreams smelling of cordite;
the slow-motion frame-by-frame passing of the many souls
through his 'cross hairs'.
The fountains spurting,
the terrible fountains spurting;
heads rolling like tumbleweed through a desolate place.
The kneeling fountains spurting!
Wept out,
he hears again the Fajr Prayer: DAWN - a new day,
and, from the nursery, comes life teetering - forgiving!
she makes a purple sun
out of playdough
...and mends a broken soldier
----------------
Home from Helmand; one hand less; nerves a bag of marbles.
Home to cry and cry:
his dreams smelling of cordite;
the slow-motion frame-by-frame passing of the many souls
through his 'cross hairs'.
The fountains spurting,
the terrible fountains spurting;
heads rolling like tumbleweed through a desolate place.
The kneeling fountains spurting!
Wept out,
he hears again the Fajr Prayer: DAWN - a new day,
and, from the nursery, comes life teetering - forgiving!
she makes a purple sun
out of playdough
...and mends a broken soldier
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