THE-BROKEN-CUCKOO-CLOCK-SPRING?
The circular clock of the seasons
is no more a damn sure thing.
Egg-shaped it has become.
Winter flew with a broken wing.
The first call-out of the cuckoo
announces a much later spring.
Mad-gone seasons all in one nest
the bird seems to be echoing !
A-QUICK-END-TO-DARKILING-TROLLS
Yellowing rolled-up-scrolls
on the hermit's desk;
spells to conquer Trolls
from which he's at a risk.
Would my pen were a wand
to put monsters to a fast end.
TEARS-FALLING-FOR-SAD-
AND-LEAFY-AUTUMN?
Like sparkling-pearl-teardrops
rain falls from the house's high-eaves
onto a pile of gold-looking
wind-swept autumn leaves.
IT-WAS-A-FAIRYSTORY-DID-
I-FIND
There in the Fairy Dell
I spied no wishing well,
but found, I did, a waterfall.
And a witch statue,
a dragon sculpture too,
in that pleasure-garden of Gunnergate Hall.
Yes in that pleasure-garden of Gunnergate Hall
I spied no wishing well,
but found, I did, a waterfall,
see a kingfisher blue,
a sculpted heron too.
It had a story to tell.
CRUISE-HOMEWARDS-
ON-THE-CLOUDLESS-MORN-I
Fresh-morning memory of last-night
my mind sure fills.
Her scent is yet tickling
my nostrills,
as I make my way back home
on a cloud not this dawn's own.
AT-PALTRY-STRAWS-GO-GRASP-
IN-LIFE'S-INFINITE-FLOW?
Aimlessly, girl, you drift,
on your way down stream;
the bankside grass turned to straw,
clutch you must do, it seems.
Though life's telling you "No."
Aimless not is the Force's flow.
A-CLOSE-WIND-HAUNTS-NOW-SUMMERTIME'S-
ENDED-WITH-REAL-SORROW
I hear the whispering of a wind
that will be whistling soon,
and I'm taunted by an image of Pan
amongst all things arcadian,
piping on a sunny afternoon.
The summer is at its dead end
with a rustling of dry leaves.
Already I am longing for Spring.
the cuckoo's call, the fair flowering
and blossoming. Yes the heart grieves.
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