Beware Of The Bull

Photo … ‘Bull-Beware’ – WHB: Devon, 2020

Where the circus pit
 of my stomach churns
heart beat first flutters
then pounds
and mutters
fear comes
to liquid lungs
and fright to flight is urged
red rags banned
fear felt …
… and yet …

Only a sign
a gentle warning
no sort of shrine
suspect moonshine
likely benign
surely no danger lurks
in buttercup fields
my guesswork
tells me more
this is a ploy
no real McCoy
a sharpish shout
to keep me out
no bull
no threat

and yet …

in the end
we yield
to threats and signs
to worrying warnings

I am not bold
strict guidelines hold

TWENTY-TWENTY

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The longest light, the shortest night,
Have passed and now are gone,
And twenty-twenty stumbles on,
A dark phenomenon.

A memory to mark a life,
While I in fear live through it;
Live in purdah, taste the bile,
Trying not to lose it.

But hope and love they bear me on,
Counter my dejection;
Dark skies above will turn to blue
And counter this infection.

 

What is Happening?

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The ordinariness of life
As day succeeds on day,
Now grips more than it ever did
And fear is just a sneeze away.

What is it that tomorrow brings,
How trenchant is life’s grip,
Will time refuse to stumble on,
Is now just a minor blip?

Or is this really Armageddon,
Is it what was foretold,
Has fate at last revealed itself,
The future to unfold?

 

On Waking Up

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Waking, this morning I said,
I don’t think I’ll get out of bed.
There was no concealing
I had hurt her feelings,
I’d spend the day sleeping instead.

Waking in fear and dread,
I regretted those words I had said
I’d not meant to hurt,
Just meant to assert,
I cried crocodile tears when I bled.

Waking and wond’ring what’s next,
I decided to send her a text,
To tell her I’d lied,
Our love had not died –
Just sulking because I was vexed.

 

Murder In The Cathedral – Two-Word Tale #14

‘The Cathedral’ (detail): WHB – Pen & Wash

Murder In The Cathedral

Agog
With awe
And gripped
With fright
How can
I last
For one
More night

My awe
My fear
Hold me
In thrall
A lasting
Longing
Curtain call

I sleep
I dream
I know
My place
‘Tis full
Of pain
With-out
God’s grace

For all
My sins
I can’t
A-tone
I’m lost
I’m gone
I am
Mere bone

Des-pair
And dread
Are my
Mill-stone
Worn as
Penance
On my
Head-stone

——–

To you
Who now
Will hear
My story
I pray
You will
My fate
Be-moan 

——–

---

 

History generally lays the blame for the murder of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, on his former close friend, King Henry II, who, in 1174, did penance at Becket’s tomb in Canterbury Cathedral. 

---

 

Death Wish at Sea

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The storm was predicted,
Jet black was the sky,
But I  needed to cross,
I remember not why.

The ship sailed for Dublin,
I knew I must try
To bolster my nerves
My fear to defy.

A storm was predicted,
Air pressure awry.
Not for the first time
I feared I would die.

But that storm was a beast
And I let out a cry,
‘Please Lord do listen,
Oh please let me die!’

But we made it across
That dread Irish Sea,
But I’ve never yet mastered
My fears. Let them be!

 

Reverie #3 – The Hand of Fear

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Awake with a sweat 
In a cloud of dread
A nightmare place I’d left. 
Unsure of where
Of how, of when. 
What was it caused my fears, 
What un-shapen image then
Had brought about these tears? 

I never before saw 
Nor ever felt, 
A fear so deep. 
Dear God, 
The very rustle in the trees
Caused my skin to creep.

And now my frozen heart is lying still.

 

Thy Will Be Done

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Cold to the touch
And past all hearing
Blue-mottled skin
Taught held and cold

The throb of fear
Intensely gripped
Constricted throat
Gulp
Retch 
Took hold

A life switched off
The dark descended
The past screwed up into a ball
Coated with fear
The future threatening
How to sum up
This final call

Che sera
Will be
What was
Was me

The now 
The then
The future
When
Melt into one
Not lost
Nor gone
All rest upon
Thy will be done

Fond memories remain
To feed our forever future

Waving Goodbye

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Waving Goodbye

 

Tomorrow threatens not to come

And so I grab at life Today

That ever was Man’s threnody

Through Doubt and Hope to make our way.

And when in truth all light has passed

And Darkness fills the Void with Fear

I realise with certainty

That then, at last, my God is near.

Those who remain to carry on

Carry the Labyrinth’s thread on high,

So human life is held in thrall

Forever set to wave Goodbye.

 

 

A Conundrum

Sycamore helicopter seedlings: Photo – WHB 2018

The ant that scampers from my tread,
Does it feel the fear, the dread, 
The threatened onslaught of my shoe,
Does it fear as I would do?

Does it wonder if the rest – 
His sibling brothers in the nest – 
Would miss him if he did not return
Would they show the least concern?

Or would his absence not be noted; 
Never mentioned, never quoted? 
Just another gap in time,
Neither sordid nor sublime.

I ask God in my ignorance,
What then is the difference
Between this threatened ant and me;
Which of us should cease to be? 

 

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