It can be expertly done this
Placing for reasons.
It is a rook buccaneering
Over a black stream bed.

Magpie turned black
Without a hint of white...
Sang of the stabs of life
Seen in unhued water.

If you present hot
Bronzed and fruit filled
Perhaps things will not
Pounce so hardy.

Stand back
I have this butter knife!

I used to climb so high
Those trees that boughed
Unimportant limbs to
Mere twiglets that seemed
Were always budding.

How I loved the woods and how
Heaths heathers blether now.
Blether now.
When nature flowed
Next to my beck
Something sang to me
Louder than a lamphrey
And I knew fish didn't talk
Much but still kept to the bees.

You must stay far away though
You would come in with a flourish.
Not knowing yet how it is becoming...
We see you and what you play with.

For you stood in your market place
Stood soldierly at attention has me
Mention your concepts of wealth...
I dont want to be ******* richer.

in Portugal austerity is biting...
good luck everybody.


Sat around the crowded table
Wrangling chair legs and buttering
Conversations about banalities whilst
Being bathed by full cool moonlight
Is of course a fair enough sweet delight.

Yet there is smoke in the air!
Then one by one my souls depart;
Stunning my heart yet keeping me close
Causing fears to become unshadowed.
As somehow, I must open my eyes to find
There is always a child quite near.

Oh how do I keep it fed?