Jackdaws Poems

Meatball Noose

Corked off glue, oral mucosa clamped, oyster bald razor, thumb running along twine binding the package, a conductor testing violin tension. Hairy balls of fire, a jackdaws caw, drawing her in with dirty sticky wet joy. Creaks on bed springs, open windows, neighbors staring, a drumbeat counting down to rupture. The squeezebox gripped tight, seething under bare back muds. Breath, a bird in a cage, jabbing at the bars of her ribs. Burnt-out fluorescent light, firefly flash caught behind bone. Hands unwrap with surgeon’s grace, flesh revealed: pink, marbled, mutinous. The cuts: rare, exotic jewels radiating a savory sheen. A finger tests the muscle, a pianist poised over ruin. And then: a grunt, “the trick,” a gesture, sleight masking ripened fruit. And my snake, swollen, pounding, thick and huge, slithers through her smooth underbrush. The Calvary arrives, a swarm of bees in spurred leather. Engines rev, Bouffants tumble, spiderweb eyeliner, one blink from collapse. Ten-gallon hats deflate, soft as old balloons left out in the sun. 
Starlings chime down an alleyway.

Meatball Noose

Corked off glue, oral mucosa clamped, oyster bald razor, thumb running along twine binding the package, a conductor testing violin tension. Hairy balls of fire, a jackdaws caw, drawing her in with dirty sticky wet joy. Creaks on bed springs, open windows, neighbors staring, a drumbeat counting down to rupture. The squeezebox gripped tight, seething under bare back muds. Breath, a bird in a cage, jabbing at the bars of her ribs. Burnt-out fluorescent light, firefly flash caught behind bone. Hands unwrap with surgeon’s grace, flesh revealed: pink, marbled, mutinous. The cuts: rare, exotic jewels radiating a savory sheen. A finger tests the muscle, a pianist poised over ruin. And then: a grunt, “the trick,” a gesture, sleight masking ripened fruit. And my snake, swollen, pounding, thick and huge, slithers through her smooth underbrush. The Calvary arrives, a swarm of bees in spurred leather. Engines rev, Bouffants tumble, spiderweb eyeliner, one blink from collapse. Ten-gallon hats deflate, soft as old balloons left out in the sun. 
Starlings chime down an alleyway.

Lifes Jackdaws

Life’s Jackdaws
I wish it were now! Yes now!? ?Seven tens and two years further along,
like that dead headed summer garden, you know the song, you a long time gone,
In your eyes I saw all the answers, to all those questions which I never knew then,
you never spilt any, I constantly watched for drips of clues uttered unhidden.
 
Oh, and how, now, that impossible conversation would level this rutted path of blunder, 
wonder rattles those memories, stirring thoughts echoing as loud, rumbling mind thunder, 
in a spiteful way, where washed up confusion reigns answerless, wishes would become,
a frail burnt paper kite in a storm of lightning shadows, no solace to share just numb.

Instead, we coral horses galloping in endless circles, ridden by yesterday’s spectre, 
So, we as empty wonder boxes, move on in the shadow of the hourglass’s collector,
we don’t see the time pass, we see the thoughts pass, on a destiny bound runaway train,
amid the cackling squabbles of life’s Jackdaws wielding their blunted knives life stained.

2

Runners in the park;

dogs a-barking.

Jackdaws in the sky;

morning light sparkling.

The calmness of dawn,
       greets the brightness of day.
The serene atmosphere gives way,
	 to the activity of day.

Walking in solitude,
Surrounded by life.
How did this,

become my life?

Birds Do Ballet

Birds do ballet out there on the grass.
Gulls have come in from the sea.
Blackbirds are always here, and so are crows,
with jackdaws, too, and magpies.
A silent ballet, nothing to hear
within this small apartment,
but you can hear a ballet through your eyes
as these birds poke and peck -
a hop here and a walk there.


(22 Aug 2023)

Odds

Against all odds
I live to breath-in the daylight
that filters through dark curtains.

The green plant (grown from seed)
is still sleeping.
I forgot what kind it is, it has no name
but against all odds
it flourishes in a dream-like way.

In a dormant room
a laptop is singing quietly to itself.
in a distant land
paws pitter patter over moonbeams.

Stretching out my crooked frame
I once again
see the odds are good enough
to join all those other nameless beings
who populate my life
with ink and echoes.

Dormice scurry around brown teapots.
Jackdaws caw and whistle
looking for something to steal
while we, the innominate,
are not looking.

Country Church

Some pondered ways
to pep-up the pulpit and pew,
but disinterest and ennui won the day.
The clergy went away to get help
and never came back.

Eventually, thunder and sleet
cracked stone, spire, and gable;
neglect, and the cold winds of time
nibbled at arch and buttress.

Where once was a stained-glass light,
weeds and mildew weathered to a moldy rot.
Where once the hems of cassocks swept
now mice and spiders rest or nest,
and baby bats roost in the rectory.
There In a dusty belfry
owls hoot and solemnly perch.
Walls crumbling to niche and cranny.

Amid all this spacy ruin
jackdaws lay their speckled eggs,
while in the misty moonlight
homeless angels fan dance
upon feather-light, slinky legs.

Old Country Church

Some pondered ways
to pep-up the pulpit and pew,
but disinterest and ennui won the day.
The clergy went away to get help
and never came back.

Eventually, thunder and sleet
cracked stone, spire, and gable;
neglect, and the cold winds of time
nibbled at arch and buttress.

Where once was a stained-glass light,
weeds and mildew weathered to a moldy rot.
Where once the hems of cassocks swept
now mice and spiders rest or nest,
and baby bats roost in the rectory.
There In a dusty belfry
owls hoot and solemnly perch.
Walls crumbling to niche and cranny.

Amid all this spacy ruin
jackdaws lay their speckled eggs,
while in the misty moonlight
homeless angels dance
upon feather-light, slinky legs.

Permanent Strength

Sorrow, don't be afraid.
The rainy day
was sealed with sunshine.
Don't worry, nobody can move the sunshine
except you.

Sorrow, don't be afraid.
The meaningful part of you
are never stolen by jackdaws.
Don't worry, nobody can hurt you
except you.

Sorrow, I'm not afraid to say,
I feel a personal bond with that distant.
There's a sharp pain in my foot.

But, I wanna say
Thanks!
I will never go away

Old English Church

Ways to pep up the pulpit and pew,
gave way to ennui.
The clergy went away to get help
and never came back.

Eventually, thundering sky's cracked 
stone, spire, and gable;
neglect and cold winds
nibbled at sculptured arch and buttress.

Where once was a stained-glass light,
weeds and tree-bones reach.
Where once cassocks swept
mice now nest
while above, priestly owls perch.

Eventually, walls crumbled
into niche and cranny.
Amid the spacy ruin
Jackdaws laid their speckled eggs -
angels fan danced by moonlight.

Here I Am Happy and Silly By Sergey Yesenin

Here I am happy and silly,
Garden; and windows are white,
Red swan of sunset is swimming
quietly on pond in delight.

How do you do, golden silence,
Birch puts on water its shade,
Jackdaws on roof without guidance 
have their vesper. It's great.

Somewhere behind the garden,
Here where the guelder rose blooms,
Girl in white's tender, she's lantern,
She sings tender song among fumes.

Night chill fell down and it's napping 
spreading with blue robe on field,
Here I am silly and happy,
Fresh rosy cheeks cannot wilt.

P.S. This is my translation of poem by Sergey Yesenin. 1918

The Ardingly Jackdaws

THE ARDINGLY JACKDAWS
The jackdaws know from prudent aviation
As they scan the land for real estate that's prime
In touch with best of value in location
The venerable old schools pass test of time
While feral doves and hawks migrate to city
Where humanity's detritus scatters wide
With copious pickings putrefied and gritty
The jackdaws, more selective, have their pride
Choosing well kept lawns and sports fields to supply
A table that's both generous and refined
Then from above look down with corvine eye
On a land that nourishes body soul and mind
Like others who discern a deep heart's cry
Their instinct calls them back to Ardingly

The Gathering of the Jackdaws

Twice a day, the jackdaws gather in their thousands, in that same old tree 
It is as if they only gather for a good old group meet and a bit of repartee

Standing in the garden you see them flying in their groups from overhead
As in their thousands and all the late comers who have just got out of bed

The last ones in make me laugh, squawking as if to so say don't forget me
Then silence descends, just what is going on within there I just cannot see

It's as inside that tree the chief Jackdaws have a gathering of all the clans
Discussing all the local farmers, then talk about the rest of the day’s plans

Then no more than an hour you will get to see them all flying off in groups
Then it’s all over “till dusk when again they are all back in massive swoops

I really admire their kith and kinship; it's far greater than ours can ever be
But it never stops me wondering just what the ‘eck is going on in that tree

Indiana Shaw . . . ; )

On Top of Sliabh Bannion

I can see it now 
Through the dismal mist 
Pass the sorrowful heather. 
With it's impotent beige bloom 
Mossy fungal stone 
Strangled by ivy contagion. 

Up above, 
Jackdaws seeking justice 
Squabble and  shreik. 
Each one with a crown of thorns. 

I sit, 
Beguiled by a simplistic beauty 
Under a pitiful April sky. 
Forgetting all the constructions of man. 

Up here, 
The foundations of convictions 
Can start to shake. 

I could easily slip 
Into the rhythms of ancient silent prayers 
And sing softly those tragic hymns, 
To doleful face cattle 
Chewing obediently on everlasting cud.

Dismal But Daring

A twelve and a half foot mongoose on a train could be likened to a twelvemonth tail of a tram whose movements of splash could be a beef tuning a banjo or a bamboo style crib holding up a playing card of a jack. Jacks are neither jackdaws nor jumping juniper berries. And wearing a nine piece fish outfit is best left to the eleven cups and saucers whose antics please and tell of tubular erotic notions mixed with the accessories of spoons. Peerage is not noted to be phenomenon of which the passing passengers playing points are clearly cabinet cables but vintage vocal cords of a violet variant can achieve great elongated notes at incredible octaves of otters which boom and vibrate. Great. Frumpy fractionising fraternizing fluffy socks are being very very clever as they can whirl around at anticipated cohesive chanting charges of the best beetle fields. So don't put a giant hen in a pen or a purse. Public power points pink pins. And pines rise up in the air of the nautical miles. Haha cupboard under a blanket asleep. Haha xx xx and numbered teats of the world. Xx solarisation xx z

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