It seems your fate to be devoured;
First by teeth whose marks remain
Like runic scratches left to impart
The memory of when you were slain.
Then you nourish the ground from which
Grows the grass and green your children eat,
Flourishing ever healthier with your sacrifice
For you were more than simple meat.
Later come waves whose licks digest the scraps
And bleach the memories from your surface
Leaving naught but a husk of your being
To be found and inspire these verses.
One must wonder what might have been
Had you remained everything
In your own little world
Instead of becoming nothing
In the grandest scheme,
But now you’re my belonging
And are free to be all that I dream.
Poem for one of my university assignments, inspired in part by my partner’s art. Check out Messy Miscreation Artwork .
I have a friend,
I call him Stan.
He’s a cool little fellow,
But not quite a man.
You see, this old buddy,
He sits on my shoulders
His legs ‘round my body
And he’s with me all of the time.
Upon the Earth the steadfast Mountain lies,
Through aeons His purpose immutable,
For change crumbles and grinds His rigid highs,
And shifts and turns change His walls to rubble.
The sprightly Wind looked down upon the rock
And felt her free heart ache at his solitude.
“Never can one rejoice alone and stuck!”
The Wind thus resolved, “No more shall He brood!”
She then tickled, she played, she laughed for Him
Until He cheered her games with deep guffaws.
Yet all too soon the friends began to grow grim…
For keeping them apart were Nature’s laws.
The Mount stood too fast while Wind danced too quick,
The constant with the ethereal won’t last.
Once again you make that face,
You bite your tongue,
No matter what I do for you
You never make a sound,
Crystalline winds of the North
In the belly of the Southern breeze
And the blanched face of Mother Earth
Gains a rosy glow
As fresh blossoms smile at the Sun,
Scattering their fair skirts over sodden ground
Carpeting it to welcome new life.
Snowdrops gaze upon the kind features
Of Lady Spring
Curtseying to Monsieur Winter
Who bows to her in sweet farewell:
“Until we meet again.”
This is a poem inspired by a piece of prose I wrote before university. You can find the piece here.
Peace, little Waker,
Calm your rabbit heart.
You’ve naught to fear here
For it is your new start.
Feel the boat rock
Beneath your little frame,
Listen to my song
And let your spirit be tame.
On the dusty, mildewed floor
Crouches an ancient wooden door
The eyes of greying pine squint,
In them lies quite the suspicious glint.