Short Trundled Poems

Recycled moon beams
Trundled showers of blessings
Residual streams...

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Women wore corsets
Men trundled round
Magical mushrooms
grew out of the ground

Everyone terrified
Of the dragon breathing fire
The far fetched stories
The jolly town cryer

Always so happy
Nobody knows why
It was the magical mushrooms
Everyone was high...

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Cannot sleep,
have to walk through the dark,
the unlit rain.

Sunup arrives
trundled out by harnessed clouds.

For a melting moment
liquid flamingos dance across
a shimmering horizon.

The new sky roams around
for a while
adrift in its painted landscape,

then it slips through a gap in the fence,
gleams out 
on wet unfolding wings....

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Brown and worn
She slowly trundled, 
Carrying the tattered and torn
Clutching their bundle.
She leans to the right
And then the left,
In that pitiful night
Laying sleepers bereft.
All her metal and carriage
Held a thousand souls
Between their marriage
Of  her red hot coals.
And the wooden doors weep
The iron locks, hold their breath
While she screeches on 
In her role of death....

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Twas wooden, and my Ivy stick
Did claggy with a cobbled tone.
The moon, in shade rode whimsy high
And whiffled with a moan.

By hairy dog and camel toe
I trundled on and farted,
By gum and skinny teeth I went
Unshaven and wholehearted.

Hag I not seen but in a girth
A womb of some renown-
A creature from some other Earth
Not cream, yet still not brown.

I wooden, with my Ivy stick
And waving with a fist
Fought on with friendly foe in tow
For valour, kin and Kist....

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