Song of the Wandering Fog

Song of the Wandering Fog

If you go out in the fog today, you’re not sure of a great surprise.

If you go out in the fog any day, you may not be sure you’re wise.

For everywhere you go through fog

is bound to be confusing,

and everything that’s bemusing you

means a well of anxiety.

I can’t go out in the sun today, nor under a sky that’s blue,

I can’t go out in my favourite air

nor go forward without a care.

As I go out in the fog again, I know I’ll never be sure

when I’ll bash my head on a wall

because fog is obscure and means unsure,

and can even drum up fear.

When I am out in the fog right now, I’m in touch with reality.

When fog is thick and hard to cross,

I’m sure I am not free to act

in charge of my destiny.

When you go out in the fog next time be sure to celebrate.

You’re bound to get lost,

you’re bound to be tossed

into a new divide.

Should you go left or should you go right?

Should you go back or should you press on

when you don’t know where you’re going?

There’s only one way to decide.

Are you ready to be safe and sure to save face,

and what did you do last time?

How strong are your arms, your legs and your heart

’cause they here to help you start,

to welcome the dark,

shake hands with the gloom,

and muddle your way towards a rising moon.

You’re born with a light that shines

from an undergrowth

and you’re never alone in a vacuum.

No fog can extinguish your will to adventure.

Now where shall we go today?

The total eclipse of Donald John Trump (work in progress)

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He looked directly at the sun
and the sun shone back.
He felt the smile flood his Queen’s eyes,
stretch ruddy pink skin,
the slightest suggestion of dimples.

The sun god Ra rose from the bed
naked.
A fire in Ra’s eye raged,
falcon’s feathers flowing
in celebration.
This was the day.

This was no ordinary man
Voice of his people
taller than warriors
big in boots
staccato words
triumphant
bombast
Jamaican Infante.

The sun god’s cobra curled …

Over-achiever

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Overachiever

The sun overachieved

when she provided light, warmth, direction, security and reassurance

to the solar system.

 

The moon overachieved

when it reflected, drew tides, cast shadows and fed poets

mottled metaphors.

 

The stars overachieved

when they gave Hollywood a reputation, grains of sand a run for their money,

and inspired the search for Graham’s number.

 

There’s a woman with blond hair, tall, blue eyes, imagination of a harlequin,

and an inclination to call herself

overachiever.

As soon as we wake 

 

 

As soon as we wake

As soon as you wake up,

you’re seduced by the sun

that comes over your horizon

and shines light throughout your land,

sky and heart scape.

 

As soon as I open my eyes,

I’m seduced by BBC News,

emails, notifications, Twitter, Facebook,

Instagram, Anchor, WordPress, Audioboo

and

“From Bath to Cork with Baby Grace“.

Warmed

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Warmed

I am a wood frog in a previous life.

You would probably think I was dead

if you saw where I was inside logs and burrows

 

heart stopped

ice crystals in my blood.

I defrost in the warmth of Spring.

 

Before that, I am a deer mouse

huddled together snuggling with the others

I don’t live for long.

 

In my time, I am a white-tailed prairie dog, a bat, hedgehog.

I am even a skunk

suspecting that’s where I began.

 

Last December

I all came together in this chilled life –

until my sun got warm again.