Blue fly sung: 'Am I man or moated grange?
I sprawl in sun but feel the blackest moss
of many years - 'bits here, bits there - estrange
and crumble with the rusted nail, drop. Loss?
Some bland rap booms the Chav's delight today,
nearer, women silver an eastern tongue,
and infants splashing at behatted play
(imagine hats) - this sun would lollies run.
And somewhere in there, sadness of world's wrong,
boiling anger at the nasty parties,
old psychic fracture fumbling with a gong,
solitude, back-ache, grief - a mixed unease.
Depends where you cut it. It's all, all me,'
blue fly sung. Sunned leaves danced silently.
...................
Shakespearean sonnet (in form).
I think next door are Romanian.
Apologies to (Shakespeare and) Tennyson for lifting his blue fly and his blackest moss from 'Mariana in the Moated Grange'
...All day within the dreamy house,
The doors upon their hinges creak'd;
The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse
Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd...
and to Terry Gilliam for his 'bits here, bits there' from 'Baron Munchausen'. Apologies to Gong for waking him up for a moment from a sun doze.
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The Singing Season
ПоэзияThe Singing Season. That's the spring-time. You'll also like other MajorSeventh poetry collections - and there are so many to choose from.
