Oct. 12th, 2007

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

 I haven't any sense, but I can jaw
as well as any idiot out here --
my writing is the Underworld, not law.

My spelling's bad, you try it with a claw,
but writing is to me the thing most dear;
I haven't any sense, but I can jaw.

I have no dog, yet I am a cat's paw,
and now you have me weeping in my beer:
my writing is the Underworld, not law.

You are such beasts, my nerves are now quite raw
and I am feeling very odd and queer --
I haven't any sense, but I can jaw.

The words keep sticking in my witchy craw,
I'm trying to behave stern and austere,
my writing is the Underworld, not law.

My feelings have been rubbed completely raw,
you people set my mind all out of gear.
I haven't any sense, but I can jaw;
my writing is the Underworld, not law.

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 
the blue looks warm but that is just a lie
we are not fooled by this day's cheery glow
no clouds to soften the starkness of sky

into the meanings of some truths we pry
driven by the relentless urge to know
the blue looks warm but that is just a lie

our thoughts like this long year are awful dry
we see the river falter in its flow
no clouds to soften the starkness of sky

all subtlety and meaning we'll supply
we'll laugh until it's time for us to go
the blue looks warm but that is just a lie

we listen for the day-bird's hungry cry
to tell us what is and what isn't so
no clouds to soften the starkness of sky

truth is not what we understand by eye
some things move fast but others are too slow
the blue looks warm but that is just a lie
no clouds to soften the starkness of sky

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

we check the rules and understand the lines
a medium that does not give us pause
defined by paragraph and driest clause
but the best sense and wisdom still refines
like juice of grapes turned into the best wines
we undertake our task for no applause
and must obey the most sacred of laws
waiting for neither messages nor signs
ah what a worthy purpose has been set
for minds that cannot ever be controlled
except by forces so awesome and grand
that before them a world has been unrolled
and beauty brought conveniently to hand

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

 the distant skyline
proclaims this a human place
under autumn blue

southwards migrant birds
fly into better weather
all year is one spring

trees green with summer
all still stand boldly cheerful
in their defiance

soon their bare branches
will quail under bitter cold
in the stark winter

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
voice of the dragon that so loudly calls
we hear it and we do not understand
what sort of creature comes upon the land

the king drinks deeply in his ancient halls
around him still carouse a noble band
voice of the dragon that so loudly calls

before next summer winter's horror falls
against the firedrake not a man will stand
for all his armour and his boastings grand
voice of the dragon that so loudly calls

the knight who would have ridden to the cave
answered the riddle and retrieved the gold
his bones are scattered on the mountain cold

and all of us from king right down to slave
know what the price has been for acting bold
the knight who would have ridden to the care

in such a time would any rise to save
the fearful land and in honour grow old
you know what tale has many times been told
the knight who would have ridden to the cave

the final hero is of humbler kind
the one who's chosen as the expert thief
in whose sharp eyes few seem to have belief

the keepers of the land are in a bind
they fear that there will not come swift relief
the final hero is of humbler kind

so many options but none come to mind
all might have ended with another grief
but fortune spoke and we have crowned a chief
the final hero is of humbler kind

others may tell the story in their way
gilding the truth and shining up the fact
reciting verse with heady action packed

just how the hero did the dragon slay
while hard with pains and horrors he was racked
others may tell the story in their way

the climax comes on just such a bright day
as when we saw the citadel attacked
but we are overcome with decent tact
others may tell the story in their way

 

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fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
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