Poetic Hours Online Autumn 2008 |
W B Welsh |
What's That at the Bottom of the Garden ? I buried it first, Then she said she had, Took me out To show me Mounds of soil, Crushed down With anger, And grief, For revenge. "From now on" she shouted, "It stays buried" Then we both waited And we waited And we waited, And we're still waiting Because neither of us Believes, It's actually over. Doomed at the Crossroads I stand at the crossroads And shout To the guide That showed me Xanadu And when I was not Inspired By its dramatic force, They went on, To find a more Willing devotee. Left me alone To ponder on that beauty That perfection, That flawlessness And just to dream Forever more, Where Alph ran still. Ungrateful dog ! Had I not seen what most Would live a hundred lifetimes To catch but a glimpse of. Now I am doomed to stand And watch in case My guide returns, Then I will live again, The thousand worlds In that city of gold. |
Drowning in Stages Dying is actually No one being around That can save you. First you fall through the ice, Then you try to swim back up But the cold gets you first. You think maybe 'I'll write a note', No, 'I'll smash The frozen lake', Too hard, And all the time You're shouting But no one hears. Then you get the dying bit, Looking up at the world Through the sheet ice, And seeing what you will miss. You think they'll see the break In the white world above But no one is around to see And that Is why you drown. On Beachy Head I swear to God I didn't jump, Dear Jesus, Don't let me die, They'll think I'm a suicide. I'm hanging To some small branch Or twig, I don't know what, I can't see it Cos I'm hanging And looking Straight down. I swear to you I just peered over To see that little lighthouse, It looked so small down there, Those waves rolling Far below, So far, you maybe think You couldn't even get wet. Don't hang up Dear God, Don't hang up This is not a crazy call I just thought you'd know What to do next. |
