Sleepy in the lap of Muses
I saw outside of a dream, the reflection of a Christmas Tree.
Distant and yet so close.
Beyond the glass yet still near.
I saw, its needles of poverty piercing the thick skin of Tory Goblins.
I saw its once pretty coloured lights starved of feed,dimmed into darkness.
I saw a crippled Fairy, rotting and naked slumped into, a damp carboarded shop doorway.
A twelve year famine as a pillow.
I saw stars hanging on shortcord,
their twinkle measured in cash.
I saw coloured candles, meant for joy, instead used to warm broken hearts.
I saw the past years crumble,
cobwebb strewn,tearfull but not happy.
I saw the reflection die, and many eyes closed to care and compassion.
And still the Muses comforted me,
In their Mother like, safe Lap.
Slumped do we seldom sit, nor breathe easy
Hitting home shores, nor in contentment coo,
Nor crow of struggling hard at stormy sea,
We pour sweat just as hard for goals still due.
On kissing them, for yet new ventures rise
To seed joys of success as yet unheard,
Ne’er rest in peace, eyes set on what yon lies,
Made we’re of mould not easily deterred.
To pray for fair passage is not our mark,
Nor ever on commitments compromise,
We look the storm in face and call its lark,
That, on safe shores we never set our eyes.
It’s not in us to breathe shallow at home,
Strange joys await us in the lap of storm.
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Sonnets | 03.09.2014 |
Taken from my book, Harvest of the Late Season, published by Penguin (partridge)