Down here where the beetles crawl
Where the leaves of autumn fall
A spider’s web of veins uncoil
To animate the resurrected
Sap permeates the ancient heart
A life’s blood for another start
Coursing through the body
Of the newly resurrected
Orbs of light spark into eyes
The keening of a newborn’s cries
Escapes the brittle twisted lips
Friday 9th October 2020 11:18 pm
Messiah Of The Fields
They left me hanging on a cross
The saviour of the summer crops
Just rag and straw so no great loss
My blood is in the wheat and hops
I faced the black and vicious hoard
Their coal cruel eyes and sharpened beaks
I am the ragged overlord
Who scares the crow yet never speaks
They pray to me to save their soils
From dark boned devils ...
Sunday 27th September 2020 11:21 am
There must be a death
if there is to be a resurrection;
The demise of something
in part or the whole of:
that portion of one's being...
Only then shall we see
with eyes new as morning's first light.
Only then shall we have
allow ourselves to take the first steps
laden with amnesia
of the former, forgotten self.
Come and cease...
Sunday 25th March 2012 9:20 am
In poetry, autumn is approaching death.
The mists of receding memory
part briefly in the shortening days
to feed the fruits of wisdom
to admiring young.
The dark night of winter
is a short blight
before life springs forth
again in proud perfection.
Floral beauty and rich crops
have spread their radiance,
fed their progeny, sown their seeds.
Done their job, returned to earth
Wednesday 16th December 2009 12:08 pm