It Comes to This

Limping down the corridor

Hiding in the doorway

Pinned behind his pawns

The White King stands at bay

Conscience stained by a Queen sacrifice

Promote a fresh one – that would be nice

Now the knight and bishop – red

One by one kill white pawns dead

Far from the throne horses cried

And the White Knights fell and died

All hope is gone but the king plays on

Propelled by bitter pride

Praying for relief

Fighting for a draw

Lie down old man

What are you fighting for? 

You thought yourself a master

You still believe the lie

Now you shuffle the wood around

Afraid, afraid to die

Adieu

'Bulle de sabon' riding the air

Refractions of gold and mauve

'Ballon en latex' bounce and 'couler'

Pat pat – shock, fear, dissappointment, tears

Shell of the egg - 'Coquille d'oef'

Smooth and 'parfait', tan-speckled

No chick within nor 'dejeuner'

Slime and a sulphur smell in the air

'Noyau de noix' liberated from

A brown wrinkled shell like a stone

A shrivelled dry black bitter thing

An aftertaste just like quinine

Soapmist in the air

Nut shells and filth down there

False and hollow - 'Vede ve faux'

Nauseated I bid you to go

I do not have the words

To tell you what I know

Wait while I find the words and then

I will not need them again

Winter Solstice

The shortest day
A world turned away
Sun rising unseen
Smothered by cloud

Grey gloom at midday
Red lights in the driveway
Mist cloaking evergreen
A funeral shroud