(Latin for 'Michael Made Me')
There lies a town in northern Spain
(thank God it's little-known!)
where every chapel, church and fane
is hewn from honey stone.
Nice chunky arches, columns too,
with barley-sugar twist:
and gargoyles, griffins, gremlins who
quite cordially coexist.
To stroll here is to turn, with love,
some bestiary's bold pages,
and marvel at the mindset of
those early Middle Ages.
Capricious carvings crowd one door,
coeval "carls" of Beckett:
and, scratched into one caricature,
Micaelis Me Fecit.
The mason sits in effigy,
a chisel in his hand.
He eyes us quite audaciously:
that look, we understand.
He doesn't care for Time or Fame,
or Wealth, or Noble Birth:
that "Michael Made Me," is his claim:
and Michael knows his worth.
Nose pressed flat upto the glass,
Pockets tinkling full of brass;
Oblong jars,row on row
Candy -filled,to over flow.
Mintoes,chews and Pontefract cakes,
Limes and milk chocolate flakes;
Jelly beans and sweet love-hearts,
A few of each ,just to start.
Toffee whirls and butterscotch,
Long liquorice laces,all top-notch;
Aniseed balls,French bonbons,
Available now without coupons.
Sugared almonds and white mice,
Vanilla fudge,a penny a slice!
Just for starters a chocolate ice,
As it's going at half-price.
Barley sugar and a sherbert straw,
The shop bell tinkles as I close the door;
Is that the time! I'll have to skate,
Back into school,I can't be late.
All dressed in matching shirts, belt buckles and ties,
The big black boots made from leather,
And their pride and joy, sitting upon their head,
With the biggest brim, leather strap and a feather.
There’s headers and tractors, sprayers and drills,
Harvesters, loaders, and ploughs,
And the thousands of farmers, from this region,
All walk around and casually browse,
This new equipment for barley, sugar, or wheat
For fields of canola or fruit,
And a special buy is the new dog box, that simply sits,
Right on the back of their ute.
This is the site where farmers meet once a year,
Wheeling and dealing a rural parlay,
The hundred hectare paddock, transformed into,
The Henty Farm Machinery Field day.
Aimeriez vous une chevaline rouge
Composée de sucre d’orge?
(would you like a red horse made of barley sugar?)
Vous pourriez faire la race de
Plaines aux tires d’eponge.
(you could race across sponge toffee plains)
Vous amènera à un bosquet d’arbres
Faites de réglisses à la menthe
Ou des bariolé jujubes croissent au lieu de feuilles.
(would bring you to a grove of trees
Made of mint liquorices
Where multicolour jujubes grow instead of leaves).
For Debbie Guzzi's biLingual Poetry Contest
you wished for me to write something sweet, Debs:))
Nose pressed flat upto the glass,
Pockets tinkling full of brass;
Oblong jars,row on row
Candy -filled,to over flow.
Mintoes,chews and Pontefract cakes,
Limes and milk chocolate flakes;
Jelly beans and sweet love-hearts,
A few of each ,just to start.
Toffee whirls and butterscotch,
Long liquorice laces,all top-notch;
Aniseed balls,French bonbons,
Available now without coupons.
Sugared almonds and white mice,
Vanilla fudge,a penny a slice!
Just for starters a chocolate ice,
As it's going at half-price.
Barley sugar and a sherbert straw,
The shop bell tinkles as I close the door;
Is that th time! I'll have to skate,
Back into school,I can't be late.
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