Feed the World

This Little Grain of Rice

This little grain of rice

Matured through time

Could nurture a generation

Feed the world

This little grain of rice

Moist with healthy yearning

Cultivates injured landscapes

Spread across the earth by diffusion

Is welcome saviour to huddled masses

This little grain of rice

Buys guns and ammunition

Loads weapons with fuller bellies

Keeps troops marching over barren terrain

This little grain of rice

Sends men off to distant wars

Brings them home from killing fields

Nourishes those mighty dreams in children
 

This little grain of rice

Entices people to worship on knees

Build marble pillar gods

Isolates wits with ergot nightmares

Golden altars are built in homage to a granule

As men and women alike reach for the diminutive

That tiny moment of death that defines existence

This little grain of rice

Calmly awaits the tender storm

Sheltered with attentive conventions

Protected by a father’s stern warnings

Floats as cerise boat at the crack of dawn

This little grain of rice

Lifted from tiny plastic bags

Scattered as cathedral bells ring

Forms an umbrella over anxious brides

Becomes fertility symbol of marriage vows

This little grain of rice

Wrapped in thin defensive shield

Becomes the mother of our appetites

Once that succulent affection is released

From golden husk veiled in sweet essence

I rolled my tongue along its velvet pouch

Savoured the natural sweetness

Offering the flavour of hope

Invented a tasteful saccharine language

Left hungry for more

 This little grain of rice

Fertilised with love

Could have fed my world

Forever

*     *     *

Time's Last Breath

In a grove in the tiny village of Little Dunmow in Essex there is a priory where Eleanora Lovaine Douglas and her Crusader knight, William le Hardi, are buried. Local legend also claims the remains of Maid Marian, lover of the infamous thief, or legendary fighter for justice depending on your point of view - Robin Hood. I wrote this piece with reference to the place and an imagined relationship between the two after visiting with a dear friend.

The poem is not solely or entirely about Robin and Marian, it represents the passing of a relationship, a changing of status, a shifting of the heart’s season – like an autumn day, as trees are releasing their leaves to be carried off by the wind .. a reconciliation of hope at the pearly gates of an eternally lost love ..

In Little Dunmow Church 

In Little Dunmow Church
Weeds grow in the paving
But, deep within the vaults
Where true hearts are never betrayed

It is there sweet Maid Marian lays waiting

Yet, a beauty in her tower
A gilded cage of her design
A passionless tomb should
Pride and vanity win out.

The roguish Robin
Battles truth with a fine art
His arrows are but blunted words
The fool who struggles searches brambles

The point is buried deep within his heart

Torn flesh finds a silent stone
Hiding low in the greenbrier
His endless rage a tragedy
Quelled only by love’s desire.
For what purpose serve a rose
If freedom becomes her prison
Spoken words her love betraying?

A sacred peaceful place
Wrapped in protective thorns
A romantic heart that is still aching

All brave souls her cries do tempt
His sorrow from time not exempt 
A crusader in this lover’s foolish endeavour 
Our valiant squire
Sheds his noble blood
That today might last forever.

In Little Dunmow Church
Under foundation stones
Beneath the legend of history
A hush is on the gathering congregation

A wilting faded feathered plume
Plucked from the wing of an angel
Droops in faded glory over tainted ruby petals

Sweet wine upon her lips
Softly whispered words speak
Time’s last hopeful breath releases a sigh
Of life together in eternal perfect grace

There within imagination
I’ll be your love someday.

*     *     *

Cast a Broken Spell ..

Pearls

I cast my pearls

Fresh from the shimmering shell

But you were too busy with the trough to notice

I cast a clean net

Wide open into the ocean so blue

But you preferred the warmer flesh of this earth

I cast a pebble

To skim the surface of stilled waters

But it swiftly sank in the curling of winter waves

I cast alabaster

To maintain posterity’s appearance

But you chipped striking character with impunity

I cast a shadow

Across the face of deeper thoughts

But the sunlight dimmed behind clouds of doubt

 

I cast a glance

In the general direction of your eye

But you were still winking at those fallen angels

 

I cast sweet fruit

Vine-ripened and filled with nectar

But you were drunk on power and selfish greed
 

I cast aspersions

To awaken you from heartless pride

But you wanted only to deny this very existence

 

I cast you aside

To preserve a measure of my dignity

 

 

 *     *     *

Lil' Cherry Pie

Well-Endowed

 

I command my body

and offer flesh for truth

I control thought in my mind

belief is faith by honest proof

my soul can never be freely given

as like art this modest cherry tattoo

exists as memory of reasons for living

because my heart I forever endow to you

*     *     *

In Grand Style

Two Pianos

 

Two pianos sit idle in the corner of the room

Silent complements to gathering dust

Melodies once played by nimble fingers

Refrain commencing but for this mournful tune

Sunlight ripples across tarnished ebony veneer

Wire and winch bent and sprung so loose

Chipped ivory now appendages touch wood

Sounds of compositions none will ever more hear

Baby dreamt of one fine day to be fully grand
Superfluous chords will never again sing

Time takes toll on the sweetest of harmonies
Jingling keys locked the door on a practised hand

If these two pianos broken but learned with age

Could reverberate softly vibrato this air

A record of old songs they previously played

Hummingbird notes as once danced from the cage

The richness of creation an enchanting delight

Holds tranquil memories of fretful rehearsal

A childhood exhausted in front of sheet music

Torn snapshot moments forever in black and white

Days drag by toward their final evening’s glow

Slumbering stillness of an eloquent past

Damp and cold warped legs and glazed sheen

Wrinkled spine winters gone outside drifting snow

They occupied a place packed in antique ideals

Life itself enclosed in those wooden boxes

Lids now sealed heartfelt affair left unspoken

These two pianos that brought so much earlier joy

Will live in the heart after the pain of loss finally heals

*     *     *

*     *     *

SAY IT IN ENGLISH!

Broken English

Hola merci elbette como estas the bag on my shoulder is still aquí

Marching to the beat of thirty thousand shoeless feet

My back is scorched the wind blowing as seasonal treat

Sucking lemons I tramp that beach to seek out local meat

Hungry as a beggar I wander aimlessly down a narrow street

Buenos dias s'il vous plaît ama truly dear seni değil biliyorum keen

Approaching a nearby produce vendor I point to the seat I wish
He nods in affirmation and smiles at my burgeoning visible anguish
While I try to decipher the scribbled menu board for a tasty local dish
Selecting several samples of a regional variety he thinks quite outlandish

Ciao mon amour glásnost' I’m uttering palabras in a helpless plea

I search for some useable currency in pouches and pockets
He shakes his head in consternation as the first notes he rejects
A mumbling typecast tourist I try speaking various unknown dialects
Looking dazed and confused dropping coins on a tray truly I’m perplexed

Un donero vielen dank no entiendo arkadaş what this could mean

Then laugh at myself too loudly because my voice echoes his projects

As his moustache wiggles while my tea swirls timidly in the glass

When he says unmistakably, “Friend, I can see your trouble

In this grand shopping arcade we call the outdoor market

But, we’re all modern here now everyone has a handle

On the ways of the world and its transition status

It really will be no big conversational scandal

If you make it easier for yourself today

When in Rome do as we Romans do

Your task you will accomplish

If you just go with the flow

Accept you don’t know

And say it twice in

Broken English.”

* * *