Heaven I

Heaven I

.. .

I went down to the edge of time today

I heard the sounds and saw the sights

of eternities dawn

.. .

The cries of lostness and alone

the vision of creatures living

and clinging to the edge of our world

.. .

Clinging with feet grasping tightly

crying with all of heart and voice

flying and shimmering on the edge

.. .

I watched with awe and pain

my senses shocked, my emotions drawn

here on the edge they tremble

.. .

Squabbling, retching, clutching the shortening days

on the edge of eternity

at the beginning of time

.. .

I went down to the edge of experience

and there I felt the agony of creation

Outcasts, refugees, nomads, strangers

.. .

These are the friends off my bitter moments

here they dwell for a season and thrive

for a time on the edge of hope and comfort

.. .

Young life, they grasp and foster

new life they nurture and provide

on the edge, at the end of the world

.. .

I went down to the sea’s border today

and dwelt with the strangeness of life

I caught the sprays fresh hope

.. .

Here on the edge, I sensed the pain of beauty

I enjoyed the laughing of the day

the triumph amidst the greyness

.. .

Yes, I went down to the cliffs today

and caught the air of eternity’s light

on the edge, on the edge

.. .

edenbraytoday26.06.1990

.. .

Author’s comment – I wrote this poem in 1990 – I was 39 years old – over 30 years ago!

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MODERN WORKS 2020 – 1 – FOREWORD

A NEW PUBLICATION:

MODERN WORKS 2020 ~ 1 – THE FOREWORD

To celebrate the launch of my NEW booklet containing 16 diverse poems and essays entitled : MODERN WORKS 2020 – I am happy to offer a signed, printed hard-copy and FREE worldwide delivery. All but one of these 16 pieces are BRAND NEW WORKS completed during 2020.

This latest collection of written verse – MODERN WORKS 2020 – comes in the usual edenbray-pamphlet A5 format and is printed professionally and beautifully in a 36 page booklet style publication with a cream-stock card cover that I have self-published to my own specifications.

I am able to offer my 2020 Annual of Verse at an opening price of just £7.00 inc. post and packing for shipping to literally anywhere in the world. So please use the PAYPAL Link below to make your purchase or you can contact us by leaving a message in the comments box at the foot of this page or please email me directly at:-stepheneede689@btinternet.com – I would sincerely appreciate hearing from you and we will make sure you get a copy of my new book/pamphlet and also keep you up to date with any developments regarding my work.  – (please indicate if you would rather NOT receive emails concerning my work when you order)

PAYPAL LINK – TO ORDER YOUR COPY OF – MODERN WORKS 2020

https://paypal.me/SeedProducts?locale.x=e

Many thanks ~ edenbray

Finally, TO Celebrate the launch of my NEW BOOK I am re-posting all 16 poems over 16 consecutive days RIGHT HERE on my edenbray-BLOG-SITE B  – starting TODAY with The Foreword : ~ 

.   .   .

MODERN WORKS 2020

by edenbray

THE FOREWORD .. .

. .. It is the close of the year 2020 and I am sitting writing this on the toilet for obvious reasons. So, what kind of a year has it been?

Yes, what a year we have had. No one has escaped the horror and I am torn between two distinct film images as I sit attempting to sum up 2020 and also introduce my latest collection of written verse which is an anthology of the most momentous year of my 54 year career as a creative writer. Indeed the longest gestation I have ever heard of.

The images I speak of concern what you might consider extreme contrasts. Firstly I can see in my minds eye the much vaunted and late Marlon Brando clutching his bald, sweaty and pigment streaked face, appearing as the ‘madman’ Colonel Klutz in the Ford Coppola 1979 epic Apocolypse Now, which was adapted from the Joseph Conran novel – Heart of Darkness.

‘Horror has a face… and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies.’ – Klutz  

The second image in my minds eye is of the uneccesarily maligned Sir Cliff Richard sitting on the toilet, much like myself currently, as he played a set of bongos while appearing as the talented young drummer and singer Bert Rudge in the Val Guest 1959 satire Espresso Bongo which was adapted from the Saville Theatre stage musical production of the same name. My father appeared at the Saville Theatre around 62.

‘And then answer the question. Does it make your heart flutter? Yes or no, its a yes or no question! No equations allowed.’ – Rudge

Welcome to my world over these past 12 months. I think there’s been horror and there’s definitely been flutter and then please answer the question – So, what kind of a year has it been?

                                                                                                              edenbraytoday 6.12.2020 

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MODERN WORKS 2020

MODERN WORKS 2020

 

A New Publication from edenbray …

When I was a little kid we used to get Annuals at Christmas – The EAGLE Annual – The DANDY Annual – The CHARLES BUCHAN Football Annual

– MODERN WORKS 2020 is my ANNUAL of VERSE 2020 – It is an Anthology of Verse containing a selection of pieces that I have compiled myself from a personally traumatic but literarily the most prolific year of my writing career.

I began writing creatively in 1966 at 15 years of age and I have written consistently for the past 55 years since that first heady moment when I enjoyed the writing experience. I began recording my thoughts and opinions, fears, loves, hopes and regrets in essays or verse and I have not stopped.

This past year has afforded me the opportunity of reviewing and editing a lot of my written work over the years and I have been able to catalogue and compile many pieces into a number of themed collections which are available to purchase. Currently I am negotiating with a publisher with a view to producing and publishing an Omnibus Edition of my life’s written work under my Author Name’s of edenbray.

This latest collection of written verse – MODERN WORKS 2020 – comes in the usual edenbray-pamphlet A5 format and contains 15 of 16 brand new poems and essays printed professionally and beautifully in a 36 page booklet style publication with a cream-stock card cover that I have self-published to my own specifications.

I am able to offer my 2020 Annual of Verse at an opening price of just £7.00 including post and packing to literally anywhere in the world. So please use the PAYPAL Link below to make your purchase or you can contact us by leaving a message in the comments box at the foot of this page or please email me directly at:-stepheneede689@btinternet.com I would sincerely appreciate hearing from you and we will make sure you get a copy of my new book/pamphlet and also keep you up to date with any developments regarding my work.  – (please indicate if you would rather NOT receive emails concerning my work when you order)

PAYPAL LINK – TO ORDER YOUR COPY OF – MODERN WORKS 2020

https://paypal.me/SeedProducts?locale.x=en_GB

.. .

MORE edenbray BOOKS TO ORDER:

edenbray pamphlets

LINK :-  https://edenbray8.com/edenbray-pamphlets-and-publications-to-purchase/

 

 

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its a bailey .. . sandals

    

its a bailey.. . its a bailey .. . using no traditional punctuation sandals

.. . and while we are on the subject of mothers  did i mention that my mum  mammy  mater  mother  mummy  was the best ever  ◉  for children growing up in the fifties  the mother father parental pairing was  still the accepted norm within pretty much the whole of western culture  ◉  in british society the mothers matriarchal position was still paramount  ◉  as a child i was never aware of any overt sexism  ◉  we just accepted the roles our parents played as distinct  not necessarily superior or inferior  ◉  in these  stripped down  personal memoirs  it is not my purpose to comment on modern gender politics but simply to tell things as i found them  ◉  i have some early memories  as an under 5  that some find surprising  ◉  for instance i can clearly remember our next door neighbour  mrs iffel   talking baby mumbo jumbo to me while i lay in my pram and also the softness of my blankets  ◉  i can also remember queuing with my mother outside a hall behind our local swimming baths one cold day in sunshine  ◉  once inside  my mother collected two flat medicine style bottles with corks  containing natural squeezed orange juice and a jar of virol  malt extract that were  supplied free of charge using  ration books  until they were terminated in July 1954  ◉  that fact alone places my recollection and my age at under 3 years  ◉  one memory i do not recall however  that concerned my mother  she would often retell  as it had made her feel guilty  ◉  one day she had left me in my pram outside the local greengrocers and  walked nearly 2 miles home before realising she had left me behind  ◉  unsurprisingly she had panicked and hastily returned to find me sleeping soundly in my pram on a lazy summers day in the surrey village where we lived  ◉  i never blamed my mother and grew kind of proud of her confession  ◉  ironically life gave her the opportunity to balance up that spot of negligence  a few years later at almost the very same spot where she had left me sleeping in my pram   ◉  she had been shopping in boots the chemists  the shop adjacent to the greengrocers where my mother had left me 7 years previously  ◉  i was returning from primary school early one evening at age 8 years  as children did in 1959  ◉  on the day in question i had chosen to walk with 2 friends through the woods  ◉  i would leave them at the corner of the village and journey on alone through the park to our home  ◉  as we reached the place where we normally parted we found a large number of trees had been felled quite recently  chopped up and burnt in a large fire that measured around 30 feet in circumference  ◉  the bonfire seemed burnt out and dormant  although it had left a huge circle of white ash  ◉  there were no barriers or warning signs  ◉  i suppose i was showing off as i rushed into the  circle of dusty cinders sending a shower of silver flakes up into the hot  sunny  afternoon haze  ◉  my friends laughed at my bravado  ◉  i rushed past the cold extremities of the fire toward the neucleus suddenly aware that my feet were strangely warming  ◉  i arrested my crazy dash on reaching the centre of the bonfires residue   anguished   as i was aware of intense sparks of heat penetrating the cut holes in my children’s buckled sandals  ◉  i glanced down in horror at my sandalled feet now nestling deep inside the silver piecrust exterior and encased by angry red and orange coals of fire  ◉  small blue and silver flames licked at my white ankle socks  ◉  inevitably i screamed and ran for the safety of the woodland floor  ◉  i was sobbing with the shock of my personal misfortune and painful burns while my friends offered  kids kind of palliative advice  stressing I should get home fast while also berating me for my foolish antics  ◉  easy to be wise after the event guys  ◉  my sobbing continued as i limped painfully in the general direction of our home deciding to take an impromptu route through the village  ◉  i was scared and had no wish to be alone so i limped painfully up the road toward where the road met the high street ◉  the junction corner was where boots the chemist was situated  ◉  at this moment my mother exited boots the chemist as if on cue  ◉  with her purchases completed she planned to walk home  ◉  she stated later that she had been suddenly overwhelmed by a desire to turn left out the store and proceed down the adjacent road towards the park  ◉  she could not explain her actions  as she never used that road and it took the opposite direction to home  ◉  yet she proceeded down the road and recognising the sound of a child crying  she hurried to help  ◉  miraculously she was confronted by her own  distressed son  ◉  it was a remarkable and unforgettable mother son moment we often spoke of  ◉ 

                                                           …   its a bailey .. .   4 december 2020 .. .   edenbraytoday

This picture shows me a few weeks after the bonfire incident with my older brother Martin on holiday in Littlehampton still nursing bandaged feet due to the burns I suffered

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EDENBRAY in EXILE – 2* – selfie

‘Edenbray in Exile’ OUTTAKE

… … …

SELfIE

… … …

Entangled, overwhelmed, a picture in mezzotint

Dove grey – bordered in the usual way

Of men and women and games they play

Of piano-moods or senseless abandon

Where the wicked transgress and say it is not so

^ ^ ^

The leaf-lawn green and sweet, a mothers smile

We don’t only talk in words, language, gestures,

Mock perception or a hand to trace your face

The given moment sentient in the mind’s eye

Not deep or dark but tangled like wool

^ ^ ^

And in one moment, mounted on horses

Dressed in flesh, a mountain above easy feeling

We shake ofF the intrigue, guile and terror

And hold each other closer than our mother

Bite, scratch and scrawl passions sanction

^ ^ ^

If lonely guilt were left in the darkest room 

And the strangers we become, last years Kodachrome

Lying in a box, a cell of transparency

Every word full, close-ups, vivid pictures

And our honest selves introduced as friends.

^ ^ ^

…   …   …

 writtenbyedenbray08.02.2015

editedbyedenbray22.04.2020 

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PHIL LYNOTT WAS A POET

PHIL LYNOTT WAS A POET

. . .

phil-lynott-statue-cardboard-cutout

. . .

The wide, the woven, the smell of fear

Easier to hide than make a stand

Form a band, cover yourself in glory 

Write your own story, nights of fury

..

Intelligence is weary, culture vulture

Under the lights of night your face black

Your heritage an echo, a Gaelic refrain

Up on the stage of fame, spike the stain

..

Carry me home, wander free, a family

Stand out under the stars naked, your

electric harp, with the boys of harmony

Bringing it home, not when your alone

..

Pass the skit, the rush, the hit, atonement

Write it down in your mothers scrapbook

Looking for the mass ascension, Johnny boy

Collecting friends along the way, adjacent

..

Musha ring dum a do, whack for my daddy-o

The jar is left, shake the tree, where did daddy go?

Fender Jazz, Precision, give it to sad clowns of derision

Learned to star, scar the stage, no boot stud indecision

..

Fame train carries a barb, a wye switch derailer

Home mommy’s kid, not greedie tin’ bitch syringe

Leather clad, punk sad, ride the ferris wheel ..

Get off the track, gentle guitar man, Lynott you are a poet

..

edenbraytoday

30.11.2020

 

 

 

 

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TOO ENDLESSLY

TOO ENDLESSLY

Hemmingway’s Folly

.   .   .

The rolling river knows and to this torture shows

From virtues sodden garments strewn

The bloodless captives body hewn

..

O endless river follow long, a plaintiff song

Where dreams will last forever

Our deepest friendships we sever

..

We cannot chide the moon its life is longer

Loves bite is stronger than the

Sentiment of shadows, wayward arrows

..

When we write our story down in verse

We suckle at life’s wet nurse

Who forces her to yield?

..

What bastard drone betide may step aside

Abandon loves purest reason

To fulfil the rutting stag in season

..

And nature charming like a sceptarian

Seven hands for seven throats

Seven lives, seven moats

..

And in this spun tale of summer gold,

I see within her folds, lust has wed

The serpents head, so angry and so red

..

The deed was done, of sumnal scum

O great Rome, she still speaks to the soul of man

Offers prayers to Zeus and gods of Roman story

..

O harlot tramp the hoary, not centre of our story

Some saints are set for glory

Shield me O’ phantom roaring

..

And in all this turgid mire she capitulates

Loves lovers lost beneath her virgin state

Loves moment born to virtue sworn

..

The specious dawn of fair Capricorn

O laugh to scorn the sanscript of her love forlorn

The lover bared capitulates to sporn

..

O holy fire that burns the chaff of lust in satan’s pire

The wire of restraint within a maidens fire

For they burn inside the hole of hell

..

And Saint Adronedes astride the golden shire

Steps forth to shout at Surgun’s sun

Her fervour to espunge

..

Ho, regulateur the northern sun as cold as fire

Extends her holy, male-born spire

This Captain’s heart of swollen desire

..

In Capita’ de Espana a Bull’s testiculos

to determine the diminutive

The collective compulsive

..

We stop to observe the wonder of her gaze

The memory of Hemmingway’s ways

Too endlessly they disappear

..

edenbraytoday

30.11.2020

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its a bailey .. . madeleines

 

  

its a bailey ..  its a bailey .. using no traditional punctuation  madeleines

women usually raise their eyebrows  as only women can  when i say candidly that i have an affinity with women  but its true  ◉  of course it is considered a bastion of the ladies that they believe no man can ever really understand a woman  ◉  hence raised eyebrows   accompanied with a sympathetic but questioning  oh do you  really  ◉  woman scribbles note in mental journal  this one thinks he understands women  hmm  ◉  its like breasts  ◉  i understand all about those as well and their unconscous power over men  ◉  women  from adolescence must be fascinated to learn how these emerging mounds of flesh growing on the upper ventral that make certain movements more awkward  have a silent power over the male of the species  ◉  like a pair of magic wands you can wave from side to side and from time to time  to get you your own way  distract  or win an argument  ◉  i think  my mother  made me comfortable with breasts because she was so comfortable with hers  ◉  a few times I would burst into her bedroom without thinking  while she was dressing to ask her a question and saw them hanging there  two  beautiful  orbs of joy  ◉  she would immediately cover up but the relaxed way she would say  stephen you should knock  made me realise she did not really mind  ◉  i loved my mothers breasts  ◉  in truth i love  breasts in general  ◉  someone will say that sounds like perversion as they might if a woman stated publicly she loved all penises  ◉  i would say there is more than a subtle difference in that comparison as the breast is a universal symbol of good cheer and maternity  ◉  my relaxed acceptance and enjoyment of the female bosom meant that when accompanying my actor father backstage  at his rehearsals  as an under 10  i was unphased by the sight of many different sizes and persuasions of titty on show  some brassiered  some hanging free  ◉  actor ladies in those days were not inhibited at all  ◉  on reaching my teenage years my investigations continued on my girl friends  as i carried out detailed examinations to determine  variance in circumferance  width  shape  hang  buoyancy  solidity  bounce  pertness  softness  sensitivity  alongside valuable  studies on nipple shape and feel  ◉  the variance I found was particularly diverse in both colour and texture  ◉  in my later teens I learned more about the 7 recognised breast shapes while attending life classes at saint martins art school where we were encouraged to sketch all 7 naked female models within a 90 minute lesson  ◉  it was an evocative experience  ◉   marcel proust wrote his classic 7 volume discourse    in search of time    relating how childhood memories were evoked by the taste and smell of madeleine cakes  ◉  prousts concluding premise was  that certain things  like a familiar taste or smell can become sensory cues that trigger the human psyche  so that our memories are retrieved by intelligense  ◉  for myself I would interject  that a pair of breasts may well be another proust madeleine  to evoke mammories  sorry   memories of other women  ◉  past girlfriends and artist models included  ◉  they say you can tell a lot about a girl by her eyes  is that a euphemasim  ◉  the salt seller shape of a british madeleine has not escaped my recognition either  ◉  nor possibly recording artist madonna  when she was designing some of her pointy breast outfits  ◉  have I uncovered a new madeleine mammory theory I wonder  ◉  my mothers relaxed attitude to her body and body parts was compounded by the way she would confide in me personally after my father abandoned us  ◉  at 14 years of age I found myself acting as a surrogate husband in those usually male  no go zones  such as listening and understanding  i even proffered sensitive advise  ◉  i became her shoulder to cry on and began to learn at an early age some important things about a womans needs  ◉  my relationship with my mother was as pure as the driven snow  ◉  she discovered the sweetest way of teaching me the facts of life  ◉  one day she presented me with a story book which told of the problems a dog breader had in getting an alsatian to mount a yorkshire terrier  ◉  i suppose that could have damaged my view of sex for life  it didnt   ◉  another madeleine memory i have is triggered by those big fish-eyed fashion buttons  ◉  i had no sisters and was curious what lady bits looked like downstairs  ◉  so when a girl at primary school offered my friend a viewing in exchange for the two bob she owed him  i jumped at the chance of joining in the viewing  ◉  so behind the curzon cinema where i had seen my first film  dumbo  five years previously  i saw my first vulva  ◉  when barbara duffy lifted her dress and dropped her drawers to proudly show us her halfpenny  ◉  i thought it looked like one of those buttons on my mothers new home-knit fashion sweater  ◉  since then im afraid that idea has stuck  ◉  i often wonder where barbara duffy ended up and if the two bob she earned showing her fanny by the bike rack was the start of an exotic career  ◉  or maybe she became a seamstress sewing on buttons  ◉  of course my claimed affinity with women is not based purely on a few goodnight fumbles and a two bob striptease behind the curzon  ◉  firstly there was my mother and later a very real but platonic friendship with my sister in law  ◉  as i moved on in my relationships with women I found my interest in them  divided  between wanting to get my hands on their gazubas and becoming their bestie  ◉  i suppose my mum really had done a job on me  ◉  into my twenties I reconnected with a past girlfriend   she had had east west boobs I remember   she now had a little mixed race boy  they had been dumped by the father ◉  i began a new and enjoyable friendship with elaine but was confused by my feelings for her  ◉  my mammory memories of her were not prompting me in that direction at all  ◉  i felt sorry for her in her situation and considered asking her to marry me  ◉  she sorted out my confusion by assuring me she valued me purely as a buddy  really appreciated my friendship and support and confessed she had been wondering if I was actually gay  ◉  it was a reasonable assumption and one several women have questioned since  ◉  it is well recognised that women often feel safer with and appreciate the company of gay guys  ◉  my continued excitement at the sight of a nice pair of bosoms and a happy heterosexual partnership of 45 years happily lays that particular question to rest  and yet it continues a reality that my affections can easily be divided between platonic and sexual  which must be confusing to women as it is  to be honest  for me  ◉  it is one marvellous development that such matters may now be discussed freely and openly and that our individual sexuality and preferances are now no longer taboo subjects  ◉ 

                                   … its a Bailey .. .  27 November 2020 .. .  edenbraytoday

 

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POLLOCK SHORES

POLLOCK SHORES

the slaves of causality

.   .   .

Pollock-Krasner_House_studio_floor

.   .   .

At Pollock Shores, in summer squalls, a madcap stepped across chianti walls

To celebrate the morning like a thousand eons before, where universes collide,

Coloured balloons at a kiddies party, which one to take home, which one to hide?

Mr Universe, I’ll write your name on your coffee cup with a coloured sharpie

.

Thats blackish blue and white like the sky at night when the planets come out to play

Some so old they are dead, some revolve around our sun, the ones who have most fun

I’ve had so many friends and then they end, people walk away, closeness can be frightening

We are not all disassociated the closer you get, the universal glow can be enlightening

.

Priscilla is an aunt who hasn’t seen a single one in days, diagnosed with a condition

She juggles with her position, concerned with a smooth transition and coprophobia

Angie ties herself in knots, struggles with procrastination, was told that she’s depressed

This led to self annihilation, which Doctor James considers a misappropriation.

.

Out under the stars Jake has discovered too late, he suffers from astrophobia

While his friend cool Harry, once caught in a lift, had an attack of the claus-trophobia

And Margie now sat on the mat with a rare case of clinical lycanthropy

Her new life as a cat has altered her mind to a permanent state of fantasy

. 

Birdman of Alcatraz, Donnie Darko, Syd Barrett, Herman Bosch sit alone in their prison

They lost their ability to reason, like Margie was convinced she had turned into a kitten

Marcel Proust joins the debate his views on the constructs of relationships so great

For too many souls, lost in the darkness of their minds it maybe is already too late

.

Understanding root causes will make you less vulnerable to future episodes, is a line that I heard

Addressing the facts with a cognitive stance based on an intelligent supposition

A statement of truth in the context of a mental contusion, a potential psychotic delusion

Whilst the analyst constructs, in the course of time, to find a healing solution

.

Medication, pills and tranquillisers often are the equalisers in the psyche’s restoration

the treatments for the workings of the mind often in the past so unkind, wrought an evolution

to stave off any ridicule and pain the victims of the shame of becoming less than human

I myself met the horrors of electro-therapy in the face of a beautiful young woman

.

Mari Antoinette, the Shah of Abu Dhabi, Good Queen Bess, characters of minds illusions

Jesus, Budha or Rasputin, the mad monk, where imaginations ritual become the minds new spiritual

as the opium of the weird and the wonderful may be forced upon them by the constraints of religion

This travesty becomes the more obscure the more that politics override a natural sedition

.

Jackson does not throw his paint so much as let it fall, he pours it all like oil upon the floor

A lottery ball, a wooden floor, a mad dogs paw, a detective story, a what the butler saw,

The unfathomable fathomed, our reason is not diminished, our rationale is partitioned

Jackson is confirmed by Saint Margaret of Cortona, her misery atoned, the dependants would all own her

.

At Pollock Shores I stand and greet the dawn and the soon incoming tide.

The waves of ‘bright’ and health and healing, to mend this broken ceiling

This paranoiac feeling, like we are all just dreaming and victims of the scheming

Whereas in fact the walls are not chianti red but dressed in shiraz black

.   .   .

a poem concerning mental illness

edenbraytoday

…

edenbraytoday22.11.2020

 

☯︎

Authors Note ~ A Foreword to POLLOCK SHORES

This poetic piece represents the most personal, insightful and researched examination of the subject of Mental Illness I have been able to complete.

I present it here as a written frontispiece to my latest publication – MENTAL ILLNESS – it is a written illustration of this worthy subject.

Alongside the other written poetry and essays contained in my latest pamphlet, I believe they provide a notebook or journal to promote thought and discussion. An introduction to a potential think-tank that might encourage a greater understanding, empathy and willingness to appreciate how much healthy minds matter.

Maybe the collection could be used as a work-book to encourage discussion and openness and help relieve us of some of those taboos and dogma’s we still cling to, this is my hope anyway.

This poem was written at a time of personal reflection, during and after illness and it deals with a recurring theme that shows in much of my work :-

‘We were born involved with one another’

My history, your history – although relatively dissimilar can become curiously enmeshed quite suddenly when we begin to be honest with each other and are prepared to reveal more of the people that we really are and then we may discover those same fundamentals that have affected all peoples from all walks of life. Our similarities and our ‘connections’ will begin to emerge out of the murky past of our individual human histories and maybe even out of the ether of time itself.

 

edenbraytoday

         23.11.2020 

 

 

 

 

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DYLAN’S PROMISE

DYLAN’S PROMISE

.   .   .

DYLAN

.   .   .

And if he be an Welsh poet

It is true one day he maybe up and leave me sound

but for now, he loyal Dylan stands his ground

and answers not, my loyal prince of Camelot

..

And if he be a folk singer

Of tempered voice and regional accent pure

His detractors may stammer, turn to extracting ure

he answers not in pain, my loyal knight Gawain

..

And if he be a faithful dog

He meddleth not in politics with law or health

but Question not, rather he to rely on stealth

To catch his ball and run with it, my loyal prince Sir Lancelot

..

And if he were a Jousting Colt

Of Arabian extraction dressed in pomp’s caparison

He would carry me upon his back, go forth again

To smite the foe a fatal blow, Llamrei’ my loyal knight Sir Dylan 

..

edenbraytoday

        19.11.2020

Posted in edenbray ANIMALS & BEASTS, edenbray APPRECIATION, edenbray POMES | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment