Filed under: Poems
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6PGEqbEQzM
My input to the 100 poems in 100 days group. Apologies for the bad accent for the tv psychiatrist and the sound lag… if anyone knows how to fix this? I’m guessing its the video format? It being .wma rather than .mov? I also fail to embed this evening. Fail.
Filed under: Poems
A poem that will possibly become a song for my wished for band, The Feverish Oysters:
The Ballad of the Flat-footed Murderess
She glides along the ground with no arch means,
Sinister, sisterly, like the worst of fiends.
Painting herself, she drew circles and squares,
And a weapon, a cause and several lairs.
The oysters of the ribbon sculpted sand,
Were near when gracious death drew her hand
To his bosom and said, ‘I am fat and wet,
And lonely and wakeful and prone to fret.
Would you bring me a son and a daughter?
Wrap them up gently in the foamy water,
Its folds of tattered silk and chastened sailors,
Where I’ll be their father, their mother, their gaoler.’
.
The mussels and winkles and oysters shells,
Rattled like bones as he spoke in the swell.
They cried and wept, ‘it shall all end in tears
As the flat-footed murderess draws near.’
.
She felt a mournful truth in death’s deep breast,
In the dark, forcing her from her final rest.
A pearl on the windowsill, iridescent,
Drew the children from their beds and sent
Their curious little bodies out into the night
Away from their books and bedside light.
They followed the steep trail down to the shore,
At liberty to go where many had gone before.
The oysters’ mouths could not warn them ‘retreat!’,
Could not scream for them to turn their small feet,
And when the thunderous footsteps arose,
The girl and the boy struck a frightened pose.
.
The mussels and winkles and oysters shells,
Rattled like bones as she spoke in the swell.
They cried and wept, ‘it shall all end in brine
As the flat-footed murderess calls time.’
.
Their footprints were washed away in the sand,
As the murderess bore them far from land.
She gripped their hands fast and stern,
And told them they would have to learn,
How to swim with the fearsome hammerhead,
And use as a pillow the sandy sea bed.
They did not weep or wail or cry ‘mother dear’.
For the murderess sang to keep up the cheer,
And her full throated voice and powerful kick,
Took them to death’s bosom in the ocean thick.
That’s the last of her deadly steps we have heard,
Plucked from the beak of a salty seabird.
