Tuesday, 4 January 2011

Othertimes I Bring Gifts


The lines run down the window
Broken by light
I call you from the diamond
Singing of fair cities and dead prophets

Not one but three
Take tea with the lanternman
As if hoarding memories
Against the coming frost


Startled she wakes
Clutching like a drowning girl
Scattered pattern princess
Heading for the bright lights

There is no honour in abandonment
Grey weeds between the bricks
Yellowed paper road
And red ruby slippers


Sometimes I weep
And othertimes I bring gifts
As the crowd roars
For their shy hero

Then as now the clock beats
Some staccato silence
Fourteen times he took their plaudits
And broke their big hearts


No more nonsense
Just a quiet sense of the ridiculous
No more nonsense
Sleeps with me, sleep with me

Russell J Turner – January 2011

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