ISSN 2371-350X

SEPTEMBER POETRY

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PICTISH CHARM

By

Ian Colville

 

 

Tallorcan and Ianthe were

two fine young Picts of old

but neither of them did those things

that make the blood run cold

instead, they skipped and danced and sang

and told tales of – the bold.

 

They were the Bards, or Skalds or Tells

who never went untold

repeated ’round the fireside, nights

where stirring deeds unfold.

Before the printer ever dreamt

they were – News of the Wold.

 

Who were those two young Pictish lads

when made, was there a mould?

Such joy if we could see them now

we’d think, well hung and bowled

along so gay and free, we’d hear

 – an ancient tale retold.

 

Now look, you’d find them holding hands

but then, they’d not been told

that God had frowned upon such things

same sex could not be tholed

but good enough for ancient Greeks

what’s wrong if Pict’s been poled?

 

When mores and morals get confused

mankind seeks rules to hold

but altar boy, upon his knees

knows only priests that scold

and who believes that faith is right

 – the Pope, whose cock has crowed?

 

 

 

 

THE BUSHWHACK

By

Ian Colville

 

The ambush was sprung as dawn

emerging full sure, yet warily at first

 

they crept to the fore,

éclaireurs, robed in grey

imperceptibly lighter in shade

 

cast off their cloaks and emerged

naked and ready for the fray.

 

Giddy with delight in a sudden onslaught

they struck down the aisles

silently, with no hooves of thunder

no song of the sword on cuirass

 

inexorable as the shades were rent

all at once, and insatiable.

 

Cowed and beaten, thwarted and spent

what slaughter took place here;

was it victory or annihilation?

 

The vanquished seemed to shimmer

briefly, in that moment of death

before vanishing as suddenly

as it arrived

 – the scintillating light of a new age dawn.

 

Exposed, the brittle bracken underfoot

the fatally pierced canopy

silk threads, incandescent in the air

 

tethering the sky to the woods

holding great swathes of pines in their place

 

in the woods of Millbrook Warren.

 

 

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3 Responses to “SEPTEMBER POETRY”

  1. […] Andrew Jenkins‘ poem about break ups, cheap wine and neighbourly distractions. […]

  2. I just wanted to say – wow! – the poetry selection this month is quite outstanding, and really took my breath away.

    Congratulations to all. I’ve enjoyed every single one of the works for very different reasons, but all have left me feeling enriched in some way.

    • Ian Colville says:

      Thank you, Anne, very much. I’m sure I speak for all of the poets this month; your comments are a great reward. It’s an honour to have my work appear alongside that of such outstanding poets in this excellent online production. The high standard of poetry set by the likes of yourself (last month) have been continued and I’ve no doubt that will be maintained in future issues. I’ll be sure to find out.

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