The Fabled Sage (micro-fiction)

sagacious was he
held in esteem by men
yet nuisance to the gods,
for whom his wisdom
had little time,
thus from the heavens
his infidelity was rewarded
with temptation,
an angel to distract his works
thus his pen was silenced by his heart.

but only for moments
the briefest time
as the angel sent
to be his mistress
fell to her knees before him
enchanted by his songs
of rebellion and love
known not in celestial skies
and thus the nymph herself
became disciple
and the gods on high were lost.

for god’s on high, know not the heart.

Fish Tale

fishing rod in hand
he sits all day
on his third floor balcony
“How are they biting?”
I shout, angling for a reaction
“not great” he replies,
“but you should see the one that got away”

Fly

jay
jumping,
crow
calling,
rook
railing,
twig
snapping
fly
sparrow
singing
robin
ringing
cat
calling
fly,
fly,
fly

Journey

I journey oft these ways
emotional byways
and highways
following the landmarks
on the map of my soul
they say much of the past
I’ve encountered
and dictate that
which is surely to come

The Wrong Song (reissued)

Originally written in March this year http://wp.me/p5fYLI-og this version is exactly the same only issued on an imaginary coloured vinyl 45

Where I am
is all too near
yet all too far away
if I started walking
I could reach you
yesterday
when you and I
stood in the sun
kissing in the rain
and though I travel
there and here
I can’t go home again

I can’t go home again
he dreamt
and held his head in tears
not able to accept his fate
between the passing years
for one day is quite like the next
from sunrise to sunset
and all the friends he thought he knew
it seems he’d never met.

and so I play the wrong song
cause the right one’s out of key
if you got a wrong song
then sing along with me.

Attempting Idioms and Platitudes #1

Cherished memories are simply the universe’s way of apologising for the passage of time.

The Vacuum Cleaner Salesman (a short fiction as prose)

he often sat
and pondered
what he could
have done
had he not lost
his left foot
that day

The Gardener

She cut the heads
of flowers dead
from too much cold or rain
and although some
may once more bloom
most won’t see the sun again

Kissing the magpie

Eddie kissed a magpie
he said it brought him luck
the magpie seemed quite livid
so we admired young Edward’s pluck
but then kissed a seagull
without showing reserve
though despite his superstitions
I just think Eddie is a perv

let’s

let’s make hills of flatlands
and climb them to the sky
let’s make clouds of sunny days
and through their beauty fly
let’s make lakes of deserts
and swim them to the seas
and let’s make trees of fallen grass
then hide within their leaves