PANGBOURNE
The spirit is confusing, best ignored
For all the lifetimes you can hustle through.
I let it creep within me just before
I would have let go. I was born anew
For weeks, until my better self took hold.
For Jesus is a gambler, and he led
Me past the water, then he stopped and told
Me to be patient. I’d as soon be dead.
The spirit tore me open on one long
Awaited Easter – in those minutes I
Was timeless – God was proven, faith was strong.
But, offered life, I knew I’d rather die.
The fire briefly consumed me, sending hot
And searching questions. No, I’d better not.
STRATFORD
Our breath was taken, briefly, as we stepped
Into the sunset pressing down upon
The roof peaks where the soul of London leapt
For joy that summer … how it briefly shone.
We’d cheer the kid who’d kill his girl that night,
We’d cheer him to the sultry city sky.
All summer we were lauding oversights
And dreaming through that last and sweetest lie.
It mostly rained those months but broke on time
As if by God’s design. Oh Danny Boy
You turned them round, you made them grasp their prime
And suffocate it with their sickly joy.
We mostly misted up at fooler’s gold,
That last hurrah that oh so fast grew old.
No comments:
Post a Comment