Ballad Of The Lame Duck

We travelled together
To a country pub,
Twice down the lane
And called ‘The Lame Duck‘.
Hillsides abounded,
You could roll Cheddar downward,
Seats of stone
Beside summer-westward.
The riverlet rilled,
Smells from the grill,
A rusty sign twinged
With sounds of relief
As we entered a darkness
Devoid of belief.

On your thumb you twisted
An emerald ring,
And down in my heart
I heard your soul sing
Songs of sufficiency,
Songs of lament,
Funerary orations
Deeds, necessary, and
Seed preparations,
Epitaphios Logos,
Stored within an amulet.
You turned to me and slowly said
Do not be sad that I am dead;
An eye for an eye,
A tooth for a bed,
Cat got my tongue
A seventh judge said.

Many more crossed
The same riverbed
Before you stepped into
The last wildnerness.
Wide expanses,
Better unsaid,
I roamed alone
And into the red.

Mausoleum

When you evaporated from
This godforsaken place,
Something inside me
Likewise quietly escaped
Through three brass valves

Which sound the bells
Of souls and fortune we
Sometimes take for granted.
The organ stops underfoot
Created calamitous notes,

Wooden pressures of self-respect
And a better taste for goodness
Evaporated also, and pews
And candles and last laments
Lost all colour and remnants

Of purpose, and the steel sutures
Became fused into my skeleton.
I walked on ravaged plains,
Desert heat transfering
Into my bones where roads

Once flooded with yellow pelatons,
Until that fated journey
To your mausoleum, built
In the old marble museum
Of my diminishing future.

Amethyst

I miss those frosty mornings,
Snowfall on a ridge;
Icicles on the awnings,
Amethyst laps the bridge.

I’m not for city dwelling,
My heart is with my love;
But she resides in times gone by
While half a soul’s above.

And so I miss those winters,
For winters warm as this;
Where we walked a lakeside path,
And found a moment’s bliss.

The Coast Of Shrouds

I prefer heavy rain
As rain keeps me grounded;
A shipwreck submerged,
A ghost keeps its counsel.
Crowds too kept at bay,
A drowning skiff is confounded.

I lost all I loved back then,
And all I would love forever,
Is it surprising to know
I could not imagine life
And thoughts within it.
Thoughts like skittish clouds
On the coast of shrouds
As unseen suns diminish.