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When my daughter asks me to French braid her hair
I will smile with my eyes and tell her
to sit criss-cross applesauce on her bedroom carpet,
letting silk tresses flow down her back,
beckoning to be weaved into everything
I still do not know
how to tell her

I will paint her the colors of the past
upon the beaming canvases of her eyes,
the colors of Matisse, and Monet,
Rembrandt’s best,
I will teach her to find devotion
in the security of her own skin,
music in the way she weeps quietly to herself
when she gives away all her love
to a world who cannot accept it

And one day,
long after the braids have been released,
I will wipe away her tears and tell her
that the masquerade is over,
that sometimes, baby girl,
the festivities will hush
but the carnival always comes
around again in the summer

She nods
with inherited apprehension,
she does not believe me

Darling, my darling,
you do take after your mother
after all
here they go again , these experts
telling us things to sadden the heart:
game may not be that safe to eat
running river water is never a treat
for it carries upstream decadence

here they go again, these stuffed-shirt experts:
water is two to one hyydrogen and oxygen
boiled, the oxygen steams away into the air
and your cappuccino has a hydrogen flavour
we endanger our lives when it we drink and savour

here they go again, the learned heralds of demise
they tell us that nothing we can ever devise
can avert the armageddon that's surely coming
the entropy or second law of thermodynamics
transforms physicists into latterday prophets

here they go again on prime media, the erudite experts
talking about free radicals, anti-oxidants, titanium utensils
and the havoc that excess proteins, fats and carbohydrates can cause
it’s time to go puritan and vegetarian in this new poisonous present
where fun is frowned upon and barbecues are a deadly pastime

in this age of dietary enlightenment and forced moderation
we must eventually go raw in our cuisine and be natural about it
or perhaps be as creative as possible before the nutritionists come in
to tell us how not to cook our food and how not to eat it
living was great fun before this age of detoxification and cancer!
 Jan 2016 Lark Train
RH 78
I, Sloth
 Jan 2016 Lark Train
RH 78
The sloth is a creature which I can relate.
I do not rush, I'm always late.
It's laboured movements are a wonder to me.
A bit like mine at half past three.
He likes a snooze he sleeps all day.
The same as me if I had my way!
Sloths have beards and so do I.
They hang from trees.
I might just try!
I love sloths and I like their style
They're just like me with my great big smile!
 Jan 2016 Lark Train
nivek
Where high tide leaves her debris
Mankind took a breath and stood up,
walked into history then harnessed a horse
invented the wheel grew mechanical wings
sat atop a rocket and landed on the Moon
But still is so full of war he thinks he invented his superior self
and his superior self wants it all at any cost except to himself
and where high tide leaves her debris you find the bodies of children, women and men who were trying their best to simply live, and having taken their last breath are strewn across the beaches of Greece.

— The End —