Cotton Candy Man.


He’s cotton candy

Floating on the wind

With a heart sculpted

From tree trunks

And sand


Every clock in the land

Tells the time by him

For when his bones start to thaw

His body will rouse

To follow the seasons

On donkey and cart


With a hint from the breeze

Or a blink from the sun

The road calls his name 

Cos it feels his unease


From straw topped boxes

Folk tumble out

Onto dusty streets

Or lost, lonely lanes

To see the old man

With the pebble dash grin


Anticipation for all that’s to come

Sits on the faces of every last one 

There’s hustle and bustle

For a place by the campfire 

On a seat sitting by him


He brings news of loved ones lost

The joy of new life

And whose taken a wife

He is the wandering

Telegram wire


Soon moonlight is flowing

Ancestors are rising

They appear in the guise

Of wild forest dogs

And the haunting howls

Of gnarly old gales from the north


Voices grow louder

Each one must be heard

So they push forth their presence

With unflinching force


Bygone ghosts

Rise up like benevolent bubbles

Elatedly popping with joy

They scatter into the trees 

Waking the children

And bringing widows

To their knees


Such is the power

Of the travelling man

Harbinger of knowledge

Confidant of the earth


He holds the secret to life

And to rebirth

To the left he calls wisdom

From those who have gone


While on the right

He guards those 

Who still shine bright


He’ll tell the stories

Well into the night 

Til everyone’s sleepy

And he bids them

Sleep tight


He takes up his tales

With his donkey and cart

Rides into the sunrise

To make a new start


He’s the candy cotton man

Just blowing in the wind. 




◄ Fly High.

Bumbling Mess ►


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Kevin Tan

Sat 10th Jun 2023 23:17

I think this poem deserves more reads, likes and comments. It's absolutely good!

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John Botterill

Thu 8th Jun 2023 18:18

Oh wow, Clare. What a fabulous piece of family history. You must be so proud of them. I thought there was reality in there, along with gift you have for imparting greater meaning within the narrative. I hope there iare more stories to come about this great man 😀

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Thu 8th Jun 2023 08:28

Thanks, John. It’s about my grandfather who was an Irish itinerant. He and his father, and his son were travelling story tellers, chimney sweeps, tin workers and thatchers.
I am trying to grab the essence of their lives but it is difficult.
So many interesting stories! His son (my great uncle) was the first Irish traveller to be recorded in a series for the BBC. He translated the family stories from Gaelic to English - it was the first time they had ever been recorded and spoken in English.

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Wed 7th Jun 2023 22:05

John, you may be concerned if you receive a number of erratic messages from me! 🤣 My internet is playing up and nothing seems to work the way I want it to. 😂😂. Thanks for letting me know about the glitches - hopefully I have been able to rectify them. 🥹

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John Botterill

Wed 7th Jun 2023 21:53

All fine now Clare. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me!
I find this poem utterly fascinating, almost mythical in its style. Another work of triumph from your pen.

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