"bigley" poems
when
the apple skin
is fit enough for breaking
there will be
just as you said-
pomp and merrymaking
I'll weave a cozy nest for us
beside a faery dell
and sing the song of stardust
on a lute of kitten's paw shell
but when the apple tree is dead,
though the taste of fruit may linger,
it will be just as I said-
Unenviable December
the song will chill among bows,
seldom will be heard the music-
we'll know the place like wedding vows
broken for our own amusement
in the autumn, all is woven-
nests and throaty strings
in the winter forest
no birds sing
-Brian Bigley
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC
I took my love to Talby Faire
And there, the world seemed right
To cut the chill that knit the air
She clothed herself in white
Her gown, appearing linen
A silken symphony to touch
Although the night was bleeding out
In us there was no rush
My jacket was a tattered swatch
Some dead man's wife's donation
Acquired many years ago
When I was not so cold and thin
Her perfume made a different muse
At the neck and at the wrist-
I'm sorry but I'd rather there be rope
On both, with scent betwixt
And as the night, that pale blue mage
Worked magic over Talby Strait
I wandered toward the bannered stage
The bone white moon had made
And on the wood, three skeletons
All gentlemen, prepared,
Took to the task of violins
And music made they there
And in that din I lost her-
She's a stranger now to me
I'm left to bow my violin
And wail to Talby's eaves
I took my love to Talby Faire
We hardly knew each other then-
Strange music that the moon allowed
Has made us strangers once again
- Brian Bigley
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC