A superluminal orb, like frightful ghosts interred, have met this bead halfway and lighting struck the hearth, for another better dance, keening deerish prance, the mute mother said strung about them were dolls which pearls know are afowl and created another cart of food pulled by oxen run-to-mill that pulled the bead to start.
wagon train staple
the prairie schooner whitetop
plain covered wagon
mules and oxen
used on the wild frontier
harrowing journey
As I hide from you in the dark,
I extinguish my little spark.
Your dog looks to the moon to bark,
but my place is not lunar -
ditch your radio tuner.
I'm in the distant universe,
ain't red-shifted - quite the reverse.
I have no photons to disperse.
You wanna ask, "Where you been?"
Why not ask Vera Rubin?
Na na na na na, can't find me,
no matter how you try to see,
with yer telescope, hee hee hee.
Wanna try using Hubble?
g'head, get on the double!
To scientists, I fascinate
and positively captivate.
My hobby is to gravitate
from the place I'm residing
in space where I am hiding.
Are you still wond'ring who I am?
If, 'scuse my French, you give a dam*,
without this guy, dear sir or ma'am,
the galaxies would splatter,
Sincerely Yours, Dark Matter.
Ollie ollie oxen free!
Sex & the Sea
We do live in a moral time, the exchange of money.
for some company, a meal and laughter.,
is frowned upon, but without these willing women, my
Life as a seafarer would have been an impossibility.
Some married seamen stayed on a ship for
Two years to save money, but they never thought of
The sexual life of their wives. Mind, some of the women
Had lovers, and why not? Being married to idiots was
Not easy, and they could not write to their husbands.
And say: “Come home and do me over.”
Prostitution is bad; it is about using women for sex.
Gratification, but it is a business if properly seen to
Help many lonely men, who are victims, and
Not thoughtless oxen smelling a cow in season.
aristocratic antelope alarms and annoys
blue-eyed baboon’s billy goat buster
causing confusion, consternation and crying
distressing and disturbing deliberate donkey
egg-producing egret elevates enthusiasm
forever frolicking in farmer fred’s pastures
giddy goats gallop in garnished with garlands
happy horse henry hypnotizes henrietta’s hens
intense iguana ignores idiocy of inmates
jackals justify jack rabbits jelly-like jeers
kangaroo keenly kicks off kingly kibitz
luxurious llamas lollygag in the lounge
mischievous monkeys march among marshes
nervous newts nibble on nutty Nutella
obnoxious oxen opts out of outrageous opportunities
preening peacock praises his pompous president
quivering quail questions quaking quasar
rustic rooster ruffles robin’s restlessness
sassy songbirds swizzle and sway toward sand beach
talkative turtle trains tarantula to twist and turn
understudy Ulysses utilizes universal unitedness
validating vocabulary of vicious vultures
wandering weasel wants to find his wishes
‘xacting ‘xtra ‘xhibitions ‘xperiment on eagle’s nest
yellow yak yawns next to yipping young wolf dog
zealous zebra zips into view of aristocratic antelope
blessed maiden by the stream
weaving raiments from the stars
apple of her father's eye
full of charm and grace
there lived one across the bank
across where the princess weaved
steering oxen through the grass
able, strong and brave
the princess and the cowherd
crossed paths by the Milky Way
a glance, a nod, and a wink
love then swept their feet
lost within each other's gaze,
the weaver's loom stopped her spin
oxen roamed the fields alone
order came apart
their love became a poison
the king thus bade the cowherd:
"depart henceforth, and return
where you once belonged!"
the lovers held their farewells
but the parting broke their hearts
and so the Milky Way's banks
filled up with their tears
the king, therefore, must relent
to give their love one more chance
for one bright eve they shall meet
at the magpie's bridge
river in full spate
yoke of oxen wade calmly
confident farmer
yet
and still
like the longhorns on the hill
laugh along, laugh a lot
like yak and oxen at the thought
"donkey climbs the tree,
kicks an apple with his knee,
knocks a pigeon from the sky
and hides his body in the sea."
O bipolar, harass me nevermore!
Depart from me! For Easter Sunday's here,
a comfort which transforms this time of year,
and gelds you like oxen for evermore.
O minotaur, you cursed bull! Whether more
man than beast, for you I'll not shed a tear;
away from me, fiend—never to come near!
Be gone, creature! Leave me ever the more.
So, one day, very soon I'll know new life
(though, like a captive in your hellish maze,
a labyrinth and scheme of puzzling strife,
despair, gloom, confusion, and dark malaise,
I languish like prey butchered by your knife)
as hope arrives, freeing me for endless days!
He is on his riding mower.
He looks like me,
only he owns a rich man's house,
a garden measured in acres -
his skin is better.
No picket fences: this is upscale America.
Long drives and old stone walls; gated.
A cultural dream
pioneering into new luxury,
the way covered wagons once did,
canvas closed, oxen quietly moving on
into territory that's hard to imagine.
I see him standing
near his wide columned front door,
he is smiling the way I smile
when I think no one is looking.
I like him, and imagine his beautiful
wife in my arms.
He left the wagon train,
to strike out on his own.
They found the green valley,
gold seams under their feet,
and the land already posted,
to keep others out.
Flora in its way, fauna in its way; work hand in hand.
Uniting all, keeping the health of habitats intact
Does my existence incorporate another extant?
Do I live and let live as coconuts and palm trees act?
Plants breathe carbon dioxide, grow, and breathe out oxygen.
Oxygen, in turn, enables animals to nourish
Who does more harm? Who does less? Tiger, oxen, or vixen?
It's consciousness and conscience that should make morals flourish.
The growth of one's self is mirrored in others' growth as well.
When one's attitudes change, change in another too is seen.
Should change be stirred or in an equilibrium-spell?
Does any concept, here, hold a precise path in between?
Concepts clench; philosophies progress; theologies throb
Birth, growth, and death are plays with many a multihued garb.
She wandered like a gypsy to Wyoming,
Where she settled in and sojourned for a spell.
She found herself a billet at the Hog Ranch,
And son, there weren’t no high-tone clientele.
It was just a soiled dove’s privy crib
Where Martha Jane set up her chicken coop.
She was a cowhand’s heartthrob,
All buckskin and sutler whiskey.
She could drive a team of oxen.
She could drive a man to sin.
Times she frequented Old Bedlam,
Drillin’ with them soldier boys;
Some were galvanized Yankees,
Some were mere tenderfoot lads.
When she wasn’t barkin’ at a knot,
She’d be somewhere raisin’ sand.
She considered each calamity
That buggered her contentment
As just another maverick to brand.
There’s an old canal close by where I live,
and an empty lock made of stones massive,
traipsing around there, the place can amaze
just seeing how the whole of it was made.
There’s no mortar here, between these great stones,
they align perfect, no a gap is shown;
to do this with hand tools and draft oxen,
not just one lock, but again and again…
There are still hollow where great doors did swing,
sealing the lock up to keep water in,
holding it back without concrete of steel,
and no great engines, just pullies and wheels.
The canal itself, so humanely straight,
by spyglass and spring they made it this way,
with but shovel and pick to prove their own worth
they dug a river across the damn Earth!
Two centuries later it still remains,
two hundred years on who would know my name?
Sure, I write poems, but poems are talk,
these men carved themselves in the very rock,
the canal they built now sanctuary
for birds, fishes, turtles swimming lazily,
the towpath they built no a walking trail,
where kids ride their bikes when weather is hale,
seeing what grandfathers built back in time,
what men do with hard work and focus of mind.
Christmas Bells Ring Out With Joy
Christmas bells ring out with joy,
Announce the birth of baby boy.
Star that shines so bright above
Leads the way to heavenly love.
Angels singing, pointing, calling
Shepherds on the hills a-trembling
Leave their sheep to stand and gaze
On this baby’s face so grave.
Kings with richest gifts all laden
Swiftly travel, all doubt forgotten
To a humble stable bare
To offer gold, incense, myrrh
And to adore the trinity
Of Mother, Father and sweet baby,
While sheep and goats and silent kine
Look upon the scene divine.
Hush now, hush, the baby’s waking,
No wind’s sighing, no leaf’s quaking
But on His face a smile is breaking –
In dulci jubilo!
Shepherds, Kings and you and me
Angels, oxen and Wise Men Three
Hear bells ring out the whole world over
To announce the birth of Christ our Saviour.
Hilary Minor
Guildford,
July 2011
An ox is a persistent ploughman
he sets his shoulder to the task
Not knowing what he's up against
for no question can he ask
Big machines can do his job
in almost no time, even less ~
Are we all 21st century oxen
at the mercy of progress
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