Blog Archives

Marathon to Mariupol’

I died at Mafeking
I died at Khe Sahn
Do you really care all that much
If I would just carry on
So I fell at Marathon
And at the Angle
Who knew war would ever be
Such a bloody tangle?
Then there’s the Ardenne
The bulge and countless fronts
But Xmas in Germany in Worldly One
Supreme Command doesn’t cotton such stunts
I died in your arms
I died in your eyes
Giving it your all is not
Often all that wise
But then you turn 50
Or sixty if you dare
And it’s not only youth
Lost with one’s hair
Twas born to love you
But arrived this wrong century
Now it’s all tears in the gutter
And so much fiddle dee dee
But back to the honorable dead
And all that attendant filigree
Do you wanna dance and then stay up
And catch the sunrise over the Mississippi sea?
Married, quartered, and drawn
Spinning verses all day long
I love that smile stolen this away
But I never ever would want you to be wrong
Now all Ukraine sobs unheld
All those ‘standing with you’ so very far away
Stille, all those eager Carpathian kinder
Await breathless for a next different new day

Fog and Fireflies

The fog rolled in
And left me insufficiently clear
The reason for the day
Was made overwhelmingly dear
13 crashed the truck
9 angels departed Midland
The Vladomyrrs remain stuck
With Ares flames fully fanned
Then the sun rearose
Warming our sad refrain
Hope akindles slowly
For our brothers in Ukraine
The fog rolled out
And we’re left with tears anyway
We wish you brighter hopes
On this too-dark St Patrick’s Day
Wait for the fireflies to wing you evensong cheer
Pray that soon all brothers can live in the clear

Answer True

My lady asks
Have any fairy wings?
My lady asks
For the most strangest of things
How is your breathing?
Have you any pain?
My lady makes such inquiries
Again and again and again
My lady walks
Toward sunrises and sunsets
My lady talks
About lost causes and yesterday’s sure bets
Have you made your plans?
Have you made your peace with goodbye?
My lady bravely faces a future
When it will be her turn to let herself cry
My lady asks
Have you any fairy wings?
My lady asks
For the most wondrous of things
How are you?
How are things going?
My lady shares her heart
With a love that’s flowing and flowing and flowing

Brussel Sprouts!

“BRUSSEL SPROUTS!”
Stomped Sally Gossamer Wingstep
On her non-existent floor,
Seems she’d flown into Jonathan’s web:
A thing she’d sworn she’d never do anymore!
As he skittered up an anchor strand,
Jonathan begged for her forgiveness;
Twas an old construction, he pled;
How he whimpered at her evident distress!
The ensnared forest fairy
Was sore mad as sour mushroom-heck,
But, she softened at his contrition;
True sorrow did she detect.
“It’s ok, Jon-Jon,”
Cooed Sally Gossamer Wingstep,
As limbs and wings plopped free:
Tis been months and months
Since she’d been on this side of the Queen’s Tree.
Offering tea and lavender,
Jonathan offered a feast with friendship;
But, Sally Gossamer Wingstep quick declined—
Maybe to share a cuppa on a future trip.
Spin soaring into the morning Sun,
Sally watched as Jonathan set to toil
Dismantling the errant sticky trap
That had caused her lightness to boil.
Off to the tribe’s market,
Sally Gossamer Wingstep continued out,
Trying to remember her shopping list…
Oh yes, Brussel sprouts!