The Winter One

In the heart of Winter,
No one came near;
What choice did I have, but to
Summon you, dear?

Black are the branches,
Black are the crows;
What heart could survive by
Loving those?

In the heart of Springtime,
When my Winter One slept,
I rocked by the streamside
And bitterly wept.
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a triptych for Kerry's challenge at Real Toads

Crow Against The Moon

Gypsy I was born,
And Gypsy I have always been;
Mama scrubbed the Gypsy out--
I sinned her back again.

Six claws a cat's paw,
And round the wagon wheel;
Oranges all in sections fall
When knife strips off the peel.

Red apple at your lips,
A seed lies at its core;
Sweet the fine forbidden kiss,
And sweet the needing more.

Meet me by the witch's pond,
November's coming soon;
My blood is up, my dress is gone,
A crow against the moon.

Stolen hens have seven ribs,
Now pull those ribs apart;
Fire the hen upon a spit,
How succulent the heart.
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Hail the V!

The reluctance of media to say certain words has been discussed in this space before, and as always, I say hail to the V! That's va jay jay, bay bay. Take me back to old Vagina. Oops, I said it, didn't I? Do I never tire of compromising conservative Christian values?

The Paths of Glory...

Neil Alexander's photograph, above, got me thinking about a subject I have always found fascinating, that being the now-departed days of the British Empire. I don't have a poem to share (though there is a poem in the first clip), but here are these two videos (I couldn't find them together) from the end of the Australian movie "Breaker Morant." It is about the sacrifice of two soldiers on trumped-up charges of war crimes. It was done in order to open the door to negotiations for an end to the Boer War. It sounds dry, but it isn't.  --FB




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for One Shoot Sunday