Monday, November 11, 2013


With wood-made swords,
dustbin-lids for shields,
we'd go into battle
on the playing fields.
It was a bamboo pole
and an old piece of rag
which were put together
sufficed as a flag.
But we were kids only,
though just as brave
as poppies to mark
a dead soldier's grave.

I liken myself to an astronaut
in my flight of fantasy.
Setting off from an earthly-port
to sail through space's wide sea.
Going to a world less crowded;
to a greener planet rocketed.

Goathland Nanny could fly through the air
on the back of a goat, turn into a werehare
and as fast as the silvery-bullet run -
the silvery-bullet blessed and fired from the gun -
of he who would the witch-hare hunt-down.
She indirectly turned him into a kind of bloodhound !

Now off you go girl,
to where the top-shops sell
the latest clothes
and the fashionable.

Yes off you go girl,
my beauty, my belle,
buy the very things
I know adorn you well.

Go get the pretty things
I know adorn you well.
Peopled the pavements
as though a carnival.

I follow no fashions,
but later we can meet.
Royally-dressed, join me
over on Regent Street.

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