They crowd and jostle, the ever-present soot-black jackdaws,
Noisily quarrelsome, never doubting their close-knit kinship,
The unmistakable chatter, raucous like winged chainsaws,
How I envy their warm sociability, and loving courtship,
I long to rip down these walls, to be at one with joyous jackdaws!

I marvel as it hovers, then in a blink swoops, a majestic kestrel!
Without mercy will **** and then **** again,
Do not judge harshly, it has young, this is no callous scoundrel,
No false modesty, reigns supreme amongst aerial stuntmen,
I long to rip down these walls, and plunge like a killer kestrel!

A restless game of hide and seek, hello bye-bye blackbird!
What energy! here, there and everywhere,
Hedgerow or open space, resolute and undeterred,
Never tires, so sleek and debonair!
I long to rip down these walls, to forage with a blessed blackbird!

A silent sentinel of death, the dusk-loving owl,
With all-seeing eyes, unerringly selects its prey,
  Creatures of the night beware! of the habitual hungry prowl,
Razor sharp, rarely do these talons go astray,
I long to rip down these walls, to salute my heroic occult-owl!

I am at peace, I will never leave these walls,
A barred window will be my eyesight,
A glimpse of freedom, before death befalls,
Fly free for me! to satisfy my avian appetite.

© Robert Porteus

Behold merrily dancing eyes! moonrise-hued that delight in surprise,
Waterfall-cascading hair, sleepily stirring from a golden lair,
Heaven-glimpsed in leafy disguise, powerless to resist I surmise,
Elven locks frame an Eden-parterre, a majestic Springtime fayre!

Banished Winter’s-strife, unveiled a collective bursting into life,
Love, laugher and blossom hold sway, a dress-parade in full panoply,
Nimble Elven hands serve as nature’s midwife, their deliveries run rife!
This is no chaotic affray, but the Almighty order we never gainsay.

Their unbridled gaiety I watch in wonder, but I feel such an intruder,
Stiff limbed I shake off love’s-hibernation, a lifelong affliction,
Shall I be welcome I ponder, or will they flee in panic and anger?
Their joyous souls offer salvation, unleashed a grim determination!

A rapturous-smiled greeting! handshakes and hugs - our first meeting!
Blinkers-away restores my sight, from this embrace I must not take flight,
Alas! this is mere wish-dreaming, awake my face is aglow and gleaming!
This kinship-reverie serves to ignite, a joy and happiness so eager to excite.

Gone are doubt-swirling mists, hopeful lips plead to be kissed,
This alluring Elven-dream, lures me into passion’s fragrant-stream,
No more envy-bound wrists, as I fiercely battle loves-duellists,
Folly pursuit of Crusading esteem? no courage with a steely gleam!

My brow burns with the fierce rays of Summer,
My soul plunges into despair, with the decline and fall of Autumn,
My feet are mired in the cloying-clay of a sodden Winter,
But heart-contentment sings aloud with the uplifting beat of Spring!

© Robert Porteus

The piercing starlight in your eyes,
Shines ever so brightly in the deep pool of my tears,
The walls still echo with your goodbyes,
Is there anything or anyone to quell my fears?

Blade-like your icy soul stabs my heart,
And burrows so deep, that I must seek sanctuary,
From beasts that mock, then tear me apart,
Without a fight I succumb to their rabid butchery.

But this is cowardice, remorselessly piled on delusion,
There is no piercing starlight, because there is no you,
My walls echo only with lonely confusion,
No blade has been close enough, to rip my heart askew.

I would willingly embrace this ****** possibility,
And risk all, for just one chance of love.

© Robert Porteus

Et in Arcadia badly bruised ego,
Treeing up the wrong bark, headwards into the trash-can,
My obsessive jigsaw-being, pieces ceased to fit long ago,
Cleverly I snip and cheat, what a charlatan!
My monstrous vanity, how wilfully I let it grow,
Mon Dieu! what a puffy-faced, skin a-sagging conman!

My hallowed education, so proud in my learning,
With near perfect syntax, well sin-tax!
    Embracing any seedy swingers-club, so charming!
About wisdom, the true intelligence, I am so lax,
Ever alone, fearful of any emotional caning,
Divorced from all realities, way too complex!

What now my future, a svelte *******?
Or perpetual bit-part actor, murmurs the jury,
Condemned to be a rough-shod ploughboy,
A mere half-brick in a wall of sound and fury,
No cloistered quad, or brain-storming salvo,
What now a Pedants Revolt, or intellectual menagerie?

The mirror tells no lies,
Ability inexorably led me to something so lowly,
Blindfold no longer, revealed a ruined Bridge of Sighs,
No heady aroma of beeswax and leather, and so lonely!
Unmasked my whole flawed self, which I despise,
Adrift in the cruellest of seas, so vile and unsightly

The mirror tells no lies,
No more deceits, and surely no surprise?


© Robert Porteus

The stars naughtily play hide and seek,
A dark game of trickery and deceit,
But our love is forever sunshine and moonlight

Tides remorselessly ebb and flow,
Leaving pristine sands with no prints to follow,
But our love will never be washed away

Trees bud and then burst into leaf,
And inexorably fall in Autumnal grief,
But our love only knows Spring and Summer

After blissful cloudless days, sunset is alas inevitable,
Darkness readily follows gloom, so predictable!
But our love bathes only in the glory of sunrise

© Robert Porteus

Munching my Big Mac, I mused, whilst adjusting my thong,
Was Flora MacDonald a daughter, perhaps Ronald a brother?
Busily rowing and singing the Skye Boat Song,
Is this the origin of the Drive-Thru? as ketchup I smother,
Poor Bonnie Prince Charlie, only a tiny army he brought along,
His seed he did naughtily scatter, sod the crown! too much bother!

So, tout-de-suite, legged it back to France,
Then expresso to Italy, as pasta-masta, bathed in a vat of sauce,
And led poor wife Princess Louise a merry dance,
Badly afflicted with wandering hands, showing no remorse,
His behaviour was shocking, tut-tutting the Pope looked askance,
Formed a sub-committee, tasked with strict morals to enforce

Laying on his deathbed, he tearfully imagined a whispered refrain,

Will ye no’ come back again?
Will ye no’ come back again?
Better lo’ed ye canna be,
Will ye no’ come back again?

(This chorus Carolina Baroness Nairne)

© Robert Porteus

My sad world I can no longer protect,
No more delivered eggs! so I have to Cluck and Collect!

© Robert Porteus