Day: September 30, 2016
The Swan of Tuenela
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Your absence has so distanced us in grief.
I try to feel through dark and distant space
To where you dwell in a so called “heavenly” place.
And you are far from those of us, who care.
Our hearts are dulled with loving thoughts not shared
Your absence has so distanced us in grief.
We can neither share our loss, nor gain relief.
I stare into the spangled sky at night
I see a space devoid of any light.
I feel into the edges of my soul
I sense,somewhere, a partially dismembered whole.
Would new technology ever aid my view,
As I search around for some tiny trace of you?
How can you choose to svanish in the night,
And never ,from then on, be in my sight?
I wish that I’d been there when you went off,
Then I could have told you how I love.d
Shall I never hear again your gentle tenor voice
Enchanting me once more with your sweet choice?
Shall I never find the laces from your shoes,
Floating gently back to earth through these elm trees?
I see more flocks of gracious geese flash by.
Are those your fingers tracing lines right through the sky?
Can you see these same geese from up above?
But you’re on the other side, too far away
I look at all that’s near,as I’m still here.
I know now you’re too far away ,too far away, too far away ,my dear.
I know now that you’re too far away,oh dear.
How can I learn to live with love, not with fear,
As I go on ,now, down these coming empty years?
So sad that you’re not near,not here,not here,my dear,my dear.
Shall I sometimes, in the night pretend,pretend,pretend,pretend,pretend,pretend you are
Oh,that heaven were not so agonisingly .so wickedly too far
So we slide down the escape chute of the years,
Like children clutching close our teddy bears?
And we cross the ghost filled plains of ancient wars
Which cover most of Europe with their scars.
How can I compare my losing one I love
When screaming poppies haunt below , above?
When bones of Jews tortured to their ground
Make the guilt of Europe ever,ever bind
When gypsies ,gays and women big with child
Died unimagined deaths in a Europe so defiled
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The glory and the freshness of a dream.
| W. Wordsworth |
| CCLXXXVII. Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood |
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I hear you brawling now at home
I fear you calling me back home
I hear you brawling now at home
I hear you calling from the foam
I feel blue crawling drunk at home
I hear you polished all the chrome
Oh,dear,he’s been struck by googled stones.
King Lear might fall for our new home.
I hear you call Macbeth in’t gloam.
My gear’s not suited to their home.
I leered at all the men in Rome
I sneered at all his orphaned gnomes
A spear would feel unlike my phone
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Stan makes the tea
Stan was cooking tea that day,
While his wife went out to play.
He cooked a pie of frogs and cress,
He wanted Mary to impress.
While his wife went out to play.
He cooked a pie of frogs and cress,
He wanted Mary to impress.
Stan was wearing his old clothes.
Where old clothes come from,no-one knows.
He meant to change when he was done,
So they could have some fun.
Where old clothes come from,no-one knows.
He meant to change when he was done,
So they could have some fun.
But Anne his mistress rang the bell,
Stan was so surprised he fell.
He hit his head upon the stove,
And his poor scalp turned blue and mauve.
Stan was so surprised he fell.
He hit his head upon the stove,
And his poor scalp turned blue and mauve.
Ring 999 and ask for Dave,
This man is old yet must be saved
The paramedic gave him glue
To stick together his old shoe.
This man is old yet must be saved
The paramedic gave him glue
To stick together his old shoe.
Then he rubbed on arnica..
The head,oh horror, Guernica.
“Get the camera,take a pic.”
Stan was feeling rather sick.
The head,oh horror, Guernica.
“Get the camera,take a pic.”
Stan was feeling rather sick.
“How can you use my wounds as art?
Rest assured I’ll take no part.”
He hit the camera with his stick,
And felled his mistress with a brick.
Rest assured I’ll take no part.”
He hit the camera with his stick,
And felled his mistress with a brick.
So now they’re in a mixed sex ward,
This experience can be shared.
They get their food at 3 am
Half for the ladies,half for the men.
This experience can be shared.
They get their food at 3 am
Half for the ladies,half for the men.
The doctor asked them what went wrong.
Both of them had lost their tongues.
Neither said what they had done!
Now their anger is all gone.
Both of them had lost their tongues.
Neither said what they had done!
Now their anger is all gone.
The moral of my myth is this:
Being unfaithful is not bliss.
Mistresses can be a pain,
Especially if they’re very vain.
Being unfaithful is not bliss.
Mistresses can be a pain,
Especially if they’re very vain.
And better not to look for love,
Except with cats or sweet white doves.
Let your neighbour love you less!
And don’t make comments on her dress.
Except with cats or sweet white doves.
Let your neighbour love you less!
And don’t make comments on her dress.
As for voyeurs,keep a crutch.
Hit them hard, but not too much.
If they want a work of Art,
Tell them home is where to start.
Hit them hard, but not too much.
If they want a work of Art,
Tell them home is where to start.
