Summer has arrived and my window is open and I am suddenly caught up in the joy of birdsong and for the first time this year, I smell lilacs.
It's good to be alive isn't it?
The Handyman's Tale
I answered an ad in 'Faryland Times' – I thought it a joke
Until a bear on a chair took me on : 'You seem a good bloke!”
So I packed up my kit and through forest and dale
I fetched up in Fairy Land: this is my tale
I don't get a mention, I'm sorry to say: my mythic employers prefer it that way –
But who do you think, when things go awry, arrives with his tools to save the day?
Rapunzel, for example, a delicate flower, sends for me frequently to unblock her shower
And that clever little pig despite all his tricks, needed an expert to point all those bricks.
The hooves of those billy- goats sure took their toll, but it a was ME, not them, that did for that troll.
I took out a plank on the bridge and he fell through the hole.
ITgey say that a woodcutter saved Little Red in her hour of need
But it was me that killed Wolfie, I did the deed.
Cinderella's coach? I put back the wheel that fell off when it went in a ditch
And with a dollop of Swarfega I made the glass slipper fit.
Those princes and giants have there place, there's no doubt
But there'd be few happy endings if I didn't help out!
First gather everything together
Into A Singularity
And blow on it!
That was a very, very,
Now wait 13.7 billion years and open a cook-book.
(My thanks to God.
Who did the Big Bang
And Carl Sagan, whose recipe this is!!)
Sounds of Home:
Crack and hiss of a spiteful coal in it's narrow hearth
Westminster chimes, Disneyfied, by the ice-cream seller in his pink-cream van.
” My Whippy” or “Tartaglia's”
I remember the day they had a fight and whizzed dollops of vanilla
Over our wondering heads.
Mum's industrial Singer treadle machine
Whine-hum tat-tat-tat d-D-D–d-D (She was fast, my mum, sewing
Collars, plackets, pockets, lapels … for pennies Piece- Work,
For Comptons, where she worked, before she married.
My dad's old 73's churning around on his ancient record player
In A Monestry Garden, In A Persian Market, Panis Angelicus.
My dad wasn't a church-goer, but Panis Angelicus made me one.
Mum breaks into song.
“Catch A Falling Star and Put it in your Pocket …
D-D–D ddddddddddddd d-D-D
And my grandfather's old clock ( seven shillings and sixpence, Woolworth 1913
Ticks on and on and on …
Ascends from Dirge to Ditty more's the pity
Bucolic, more peasant than pleasant
Definitely not Epic
Flarf! Don't make me laugh.
(Google it .. You'll see … )
A Genre for geeks if you ask me.
Haiku might suit you
If you're not into Hexameter
Which I'm not, because I forgot
How many beats I should encounter.
Possibly I'd be word-winning
If my Poet-heart tried Kenning
A Lyric for a Madrigal might be more my thing
Now there's a Metaphor for life or quolachrism
(Don't look THAT up
It's a Neologism … )
Alluring, isn't it, to delve into another
Life, to fetch up into the
Mystery of where,
And when, and how:
Nottingham, 1350, with Alan
A'Dale whistling through the beeches
Confiding secrets of centuries to come.
What a kuffufle: Hear the tirade!
The chef's ran off with the scullery-maid!
Her Ladyship's fainted, and when she comes to
No-one'll escape the hullabaloo!
“How could these ingrates do this to me?
They KNEW Lady Westmorland's coming to tea!”
The chauffeur, who loved her, won't leave his bed
And Pardoner, the gardener's, locked in his shed
(He had a crush on Monsieur, though nobody guessed
He stayed in the closet, at his lover's behest.)
His lordship has wisely left for his club
Constitutiinally unable to withstand the hubbub.
He was wounded in the whatsits during The War,
And leads a much quieter life than before …
Bounty, the mastiff's, rolls over, plays dead –
And King Henry's armour now stands on its head.
The Tweeny, when quizzed, swore not to know
That Nancy (the hussy) was planning to go.
And what, you might wonder was the fate of this pair?
Decamped, with no character, they might have despaired!
But no! Holed up in Brighton, renowned for it's looks
They're living off the proceeds of cooking the books!
Save us saviour of the world,
For by your cross and resurrection
You have set us free. An empty tomb,
A grisly death, saviour of the world, fortold-
To set us free for perfection: God in action
By your cross and resurrection, you have set us free!
Cross and resurrection bloomed from a virgin's womb
Into a promise, saviour of the world : eternity
First of May.
(Careful! Don't break it!)
There he is. A tall dark handsome stranger
En route to Porlock.
Hand the cat (black, naturally)
To a neighbour and escort the
Stranger to Vegas,
Where, touch wood,
Your lucky dime will
Accrue, for you, a
If not, head into the sunset with a shovel
And track down a rainbow.
Position yourself at its end,
Throw salt over your left shoulder, and
If Mercury is in the ascendant and
Cassandra on holiday, you
WILL find that pot of gold
Stuffed with enough
Shiny silver sixpences to ensure
You will, if you're lucky,