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Now when Jove had thus brought Hector and the Trojans to the
ships, he left them to their never-ending toil, and turned his keen
eyes away, looking elsewhither towards the horse-breeders of Thrace,
the Mysians, fighters at close quarters, the noble Hippemolgi, who
live on milk, and the Abians, justest of mankind. He no longer
turned so much as a glance towards Troy, for he did not think that any
of the immortals would go and help either Trojans or Danaans.
  But King Neptune had kept no blind look-out; he had been looking
admiringly on the battle from his seat on the topmost crests of wooded
Samothrace, whence he could see all Ida, with the city of Priam and
the ships of the Achaeans. He had come from under the sea and taken
his place here, for he pitied the Achaeans who were being overcome
by the Trojans; and he was furiously angry with Jove.
  Presently he came down from his post on the mountain top, and as
he strode swiftly onwards the high hills and the forest quaked beneath
the tread of his immortal feet. Three strides he took, and with the
fourth he reached his goal—Aegae, where is his glittering golden
palace, imperishable, in the depths of the sea. When he got there,
he yoked his fleet brazen-footed steeds with their manes of gold all
flying in the wind; he clothed himself in raiment of gold, grasped his
gold whip, and took his stand upon his chariot. As he went his way
over the waves the sea-monsters left their lairs, for they knew
their lord, and came gambolling round him from every quarter of the
deep, while the sea in her gladness opened a path before his
chariot. So lightly did the horses fly that the bronze axle of the car
was not even wet beneath it; and thus his bounding steeds took him
to the ships of the Achaeans.
  Now there is a certain huge cavern in the depths of the sea midway
between Tenedos and rocky Imbrus; here Neptune lord of the
earthquake stayed his horses, unyoked them, and set before them
their ambrosial forage. He hobbled their feet with hobbles of gold
which none could either unloose or break, so that they might stay
there in that place until their lord should return. This done he
went his way to the host of the Achaeans.
  Now the Trojans followed Hector son of Priam in close array like a
storm-cloud or flame of fire, fighting with might and main and raising
the cry battle; for they deemed that they should take the ships of the
Achaeans and **** all their chiefest heroes then and there.
Meanwhile earth-encircling Neptune lord of the earthquake cheered on
the Argives, for he had come up out of the sea and had assumed the
form and voice of Calchas.
  First he spoke to the two Ajaxes, who were doing their best already,
and said, “Ajaxes, you two can be the saving of the Achaeans if you
will put out all your strength and not let yourselves be daunted. I am
not afraid that the Trojans, who have got over the wall in force, will
be victorious in any other part, for the Achaeans can hold all of them
in check, but I much fear that some evil will befall us here where
furious Hector, who boasts himself the son of great Jove himself, is
leading them on like a pillar of flame. May some god, then, put it
into your hearts to make a firm stand here, and to incite others to do
the like. In this case you will drive him from the ships even though
he be inspired by Jove himself.”
  As he spoke the earth-encircling lord of the earthquake struck
both of them with his sceptre and filled their hearts with daring.
He made their legs light and active, as also their hands and their
feet. Then, as the soaring falcon poises on the wing high above some
sheer rock, and presently swoops down to chase some bird over the
plain, even so did Neptune lord of the earthquake wing his flight into
the air and leave them. Of the two, swift Ajax son of Oileus was the
first to know who it was that had been speaking with them, and said to
Ajax son of Telamon, “Ajax, this is one of the gods that dwell on
Olympus, who in the likeness of the prophet is bidding us fight hard
by our ships. It was not Calchas the seer and diviner of omens; I knew
him at once by his feet and knees as he turned away, for the gods
are soon recognised. Moreover I feel the lust of battle burn more
fiercely within me, while my hands and my feet under me are more eager
for the fray.”
  And Ajax son of Telamon answered, “I too feel my hands grasp my
spear more firmly; my strength is greater, and my feet more nimble;
I long, moreover, to meet furious Hector son of Priam, even in
single combat.”
  Thus did they converse, exulting in the hunger after battle with
which the god had filled them. Meanwhile the earth-encircler roused
the Achaeans, who were resting in the rear by the ships overcome at
once by hard fighting and by grief at seeing that the Trojans had
got over the wall in force. Tears began falling from their eyes as
they beheld them, for they made sure that they should not escape
destruction; but the lord of the earthquake passed lightly about among
them and urged their battalions to the front.
  First he went up to Teucer and Leitus, the hero Peneleos, and
Thoas and Deipyrus; Meriones also and Antilochus, valiant warriors;
all did he exhort. “Shame on you young Argives,” he cried, “it was
on your prowess I relied for the saving of our ships; if you fight not
with might and main, this very day will see us overcome by the
Trojans. Of a truth my eyes behold a great and terrible portent
which I had never thought to see—the Trojans at our ships—they,
who were heretofore like panic-stricken hinds, the prey of jackals and
wolves in a forest, with no strength but in flight for they cannot
defend themselves. Hitherto the Trojans dared not for one moment
face the attack of the Achaeans, but now they have sallied far from
their city and are fighting at our very ships through the cowardice of
our leader and the disaffection of the people themselves, who in their
discontent care not to fight in defence of the ships but are being
slaughtered near them. True, King Agamemnon son of Atreus is the cause
of our disaster by having insulted the son of Peleus, still this is no
reason why we should leave off fighting. Let us be quick to heal,
for the hearts of the brave heal quickly. You do ill to be thus
remiss, you, who are the finest soldiers in our whole army. I blame no
man for keeping out of battle if he is a weakling, but I am
indignant with such men as you are. My good friends, matters will soon
become even worse through this slackness; think, each one of you, of
his own honour and credit, for the hazard of the fight is extreme.
Great Hector is now fighting at our ships; he has broken through the
gates and the strong bolt that held them.”
  Thus did the earth-encircler address the Achaeans and urge them
on. Thereon round the two Ajaxes there gathered strong bands of men,
of whom not even Mars nor Minerva, marshaller of hosts could make
light if they went among them, for they were the picked men of all
those who were now awaiting the onset of Hector and the Trojans.
They made a living fence, spear to spear, shield to shield, buckler to
buckler, helmet to helmet, and man to man. The horse-hair crests on
their gleaming helmets touched one another as they nodded forward,
so closely seffied were they; the spears they brandished in their
strong hands were interlaced, and their hearts were set on battle.
  The Trojans advanced in a dense body, with Hector at their head
pressing right on as a rock that comes thundering down the side of
some mountain from whose brow the winter torrents have torn it; the
foundations of the dull thing have been loosened by floods of rain,
and as it bounds headlong on its way it sets the whole forest in an
uproar; it swerves neither to right nor left till it reaches level
ground, but then for all its fury it can go no further—even so easily
did Hector for a while seem as though he would career through the
tents and ships of the Achaeans till he had reached the sea in his
murderous course; but the closely serried battalions stayed him when
he reached them, for the sons of the Achaeans ****** at him with
swords and spears pointed at both ends, and drove him from them so
that he staggered and gave ground; thereon he shouted to the
Trojans, “Trojans, Lycians, and Dardanians, fighters in close
combat, stand firm: the Achaeans have set themselves as a wall against
me, but they will not check me for long; they will give ground
before me if the mightiest of the gods, the thundering spouse of Juno,
has indeed inspired my onset.”
  With these words he put heart and soul into them all. Deiphobus
son of Priam went about among them intent on deeds of daring with
his round shield before him, under cover of which he strode quickly
forward. Meriones took aim at him with a spear, nor did he fail to hit
the broad orb of ox-hide; but he was far from piercing it for the
spear broke in two pieces long ere he could do so; moreover
Deiphobus had seen it coming and had held his shield well away from
him. Meriones drew back under cover of his comrades, angry alike at
having failed to vanquish Deiphobus, and having broken his spear. He
turned therefore towards the ships and tents to fetch a spear which he
had left behind in his tent.
  The others continued fighting, and the cry of battle rose up into
the heavens. Teucer son of Telamon was the first to **** his man, to
wit, the warrior Imbrius son of Mentor rich in horses. Until the
Achaeans came he had lived in Pedaeum, and had married Medesicaste a
******* daughter of Priam; but on the arrival of the Danaan fleet he
had gone back to Ilius, and was a great man among the Trojans,
dwelling near Priam himself, who gave him like honour with his own
sons. The son of Telamon now struck him under the ear with a spear
which he then drew back again, and Imbrius fell headlong as an
ash-tree when it is felled on the crest of some high mountain
beacon, and its delicate green foliage comes toppling down to the
ground. Thus did he fall with his bronze-dight armour ringing
harshly round him, and Teucer sprang forward with intent to strip
him of his armour; but as he was doing so, Hector took aim at him with
a spear. Teucer saw the spear coming and swerved aside, whereon it hit
Amphimachus, son of Cteatus son of Actor, in the chest as he was
coming into battle, and his armour rang rattling round him as he
fell heavily to the ground. Hector sprang forward to take
Amphimachus’s helmet from off his temples, and in a moment Ajax
threw a spear at him, but did not wound him, for he was encased all
over in his terrible armour; nevertheless the spear struck the boss of
his shield with such force as to drive him back from the two
corpses, which the Achaeans then drew off. Stichius and Menestheus,
captains of the Athenians, bore away Amphimachus to the host of the
Achaeans, while the two brave and impetuous Ajaxes did the like by
Imbrius. As two lions ****** a goat from the hounds that have it in
their fangs, and bear it through thick brushwood high above the ground
in their jaws, thus did the Ajaxes bear aloft the body of Imbrius, and
strip it of its armour. Then the son of Oileus severed the head from
the neck in revenge for the death of Amphimachus, and sent it whirling
over the crowd as though it had been a ball, till fell in the dust
at Hector’s feet.
  Neptune was exceedingly angry that his grandson Amphimachus should
have fallen; he therefore went to the tents and ships of the
Achaeans to urge the Danaans still further, and to devise evil for the
Trojans. Idomeneus met him, as he was taking leave of a comrade, who
had just come to him from the fight, wounded in the knee. His
fellow-soldiers bore him off the field, and Idomeneus having given
orders to the physicians went on to his tent, for he was still
thirsting for battle. Neptune spoke in the likeness and with the voice
of Thoas son of Andraemon who ruled the Aetolians of all Pleuron and
high Calydon, and was honoured among his people as though he were a
god. “Idomeneus,” said he, “lawgiver to the Cretans, what has now
become of the threats with which the sons of the Achaeans used to
threaten the Trojans?”
  And Idomeneus chief among the Cretans answered, “Thoas, no one, so
far as I know, is in fault, for we can all fight. None are held back
neither by fear nor slackness, but it seems to be the of almighty Jove
that the Achaeans should perish ingloriously here far from Argos: you,
Thoas, have been always staunch, and you keep others in heart if you
see any fail in duty; be not then remiss now, but exhort all to do
their utmost.”
  To this Neptune lord of the earthquake made answer, “Idomeneus,
may he never return from Troy, but remain here for dogs to batten
upon, who is this day wilfully slack in fighting. Get your armour
and go, we must make all haste together if we may be of any use,
though we are only two. Even cowards gain courage from
companionship, and we two can hold our own with the bravest.”
  Therewith the god went back into the thick of the fight, and
Idomeneus when he had reached his tent donned his armour, grasped
his two spears, and sallied forth. As the lightning which the son of
Saturn brandishes from bright Olympus when he would show a sign to
mortals, and its gleam flashes far and wide—even so did his armour
gleam about him as he ran. Meriones his sturdy squire met him while he
was still near his tent (for he was going to fetch his spear) and
Idomeneus said
  “Meriones, fleet son of Molus, best of comrades, why have you left
the field? Are you wounded, and is the point of the weapon hurting
you? or have you been sent to fetch me? I want no fetching; I had
far rather fight than stay in my tent.”
  “Idomeneus,” answered Meriones, “I come for a spear, if I can find
one in my tent; I have broken the one I had, in throwing it at the
shield of Deiphobus.”
  And Idomeneus captain of the Cretans answered, “You will find one
spear, or twenty if you so please, standing up against the end wall of
my tent. I have taken them from Trojans whom I have killed, for I am
not one to keep my enemy at arm’s length; therefore I have spears,
bossed shields, helmets, and burnished corslets.”
  Then Meriones said, “I too in my tent and at my ship have spoils
taken from the Trojans, but they are not at hand. I have been at all
times valorous, and wherever there has been hard fighting have held my
own among the foremost. There may be those among the Achaeans who do
not know how I fight, but you know it well enough yourself.”
  Idomeneus answered, “I know you for a brave man: you need not tell
me. If the best men at the ships were being chosen to go on an ambush-
and there is nothing like this for showing what a man is made of; it
comes out then who is cowardly and who brave; the coward will change
colour at every touch and turn; he is full of fears, and keeps
shifting his weight first on one knee and then on the other; his heart
beats fast as he thinks of death, and one can hear the chattering of
his teeth; whereas the brave man will not change colour nor be on
finding himself in ambush, but is all the time longing to go into
action—if the best men were being chosen for such a service, no one
could make light of your courage nor feats of arms. If you were struck
by a dart or smitten in close combat, it would not be from behind,
in your neck nor back, but the weapon would hit you in the chest or
belly as you were pressing forward to a place in the front ranks.
But let us no longer stay here talking like children, lest we be ill
spoken of; go, fetch your spear from the tent at once.”
  On this Meriones, peer of Mars, went to the tent and got himself a
spear of bronze. He then followed after Idomeneus, big with great
deeds of valour. As when baneful Mars sallies forth to battle, and his
son Panic so strong and dauntless goes with him, to strike terror even
into the heart of a hero—the pair have gone from Thrace to arm
themselves among the Ephyri or the brave Phlegyans, but they will
not listen to both the contending hosts, and will give victory to
one side or to the other—even so did Meriones and Idomeneus, captains
of m
Mike Hopkins Nov 2011
_
                                 On

                             Goolwa     Beach

                                the  waves are

                                    dogged    

                                        bounding  

           ­                           puppies  bouncing  

            ­                  excitedly  around  your  feet  

                           Greyhounds sprinting  in to nip your  

                     ankles   Labradors  wet nosed gambolling

                 slobbering      Rottweilers  snarling    slavering

            knocking  you off balance          in packs        hard  

       on the heels of the leader           *** crazed  

    sniffing   the   one   in   front         mounting it

   mad     things      collapsing         foaming  retreating

whimpering   spent  on  the  sand     cowering  like **whipped curs
©Mike Hopkins 2011
Blog: mistakenforarealpoet.wordpress.com

Hard to format a poem on this site, but in the original, it is laid out to resemble a dog.  Goolwa Beach is in South Australia. Its part of a spectacular stretch of beautiful, white sand beach stretching down to the Murray mouth and the Coorong.  The waves are relentless.
The little boy with the shining eyes
Was skipping along the street,
They said that he was autistic, that
He never would learn to speak,
He laughed and played in the open air
And he chattered away inside,
But he couldn’t utter a single word
That anyone recognised.

His mind was cluttered with happy thoughts
Of colours and sounds and things,
He couldn’t make sense of the what-they-were
Or anyone’s utterings,
He thought they spoke in a special tongue
That nobody understood,
They kept on saying the same old thing,
‘Now Oliver, you be good!’

He thought that ‘Ubble ee yuli dood,’
Was the sound of a creaking chair,
Or maybe the voice of a ‘Wotsigot’
When his mother was tearing her hair,
His father would just say ‘Geepimin’
When he wanted to go out late,
And she’d say, ‘Wotdid yalass slayv dyeov?’
Locking the garden gate.

He’d learned to scale the iron fence
That was built to keep him in,
And he took his chattering Umblevorks
That were gambolling within,
He filled the street with his Landyplatts
Where they lay on every lawn,
Waiting to play with the neighbour’s cats
That he knew as Gratzendorn.

But down the road was a nasty man
With a name like Hubbrygast,
Who would grab the lad by the scruff of the neck
And drag him home at last,
‘Keep your idiot son at home,
Away from my place, at least,
If I catch him out on the road again
I’ll be calling the local police.’

The day was Doodly Wangle with
The Flubber up in the Guy,
When Hubbrygast saw a Landyplatt
From the corner of his eye,
The boy was singing a Wollygong
To a two-tone Grindlepick,
When Hubbrygast poked the Landyplatt
With the sharp point of a stick.

The Landyplatt gave a gorble that
Had enraged the Umblevorks,
And Hubbrygast was surrounded by
His own sharp garden forks,
They poked and prodded and brought him down
‘Til the nasty man had bled,
While a bright red volluping Corple
With a *****, took off his head.

The people hide in their houses when
The boy comes out to play,
And nobody tries to speak to him,
They wouldn’t know what to say,
They weave their way through the Landyplatts
That have taken over the street,
And try to avoid the Umblevorks
That chatter, under their feet.

David Lewis Paget
Pagan Paul Feb 2021
.
I lay here coiled foetal
in my cold cot of nightmare,
the candle that canutes the dark
has long since dimmed and died.

In but a few short hours
the **** will welcome the Dawn,
In but a few short hours
my wracked shivering frame will rise.

And frozen in the deepest night
I stare into the middle distance,
my eyes daring the still darkness
to intrude on my personal space.
But my minds eye blinks once
and I travel far far away,
back through the lonely years
to my tender sixteenth winter.
Directed and ordered to leave
I faced the cold day with all hope,
as gambolling in my ears,
voices of angry authority play.

The cities arms embraced me,
wrapped me in the mantle of adulthood.
A cooper? A Baker? An Iron-smith?
Nay! For me the cloak of the Fool.
And the Court of a Lord called,
capricious capering for entertainment.
Music. Poetry. Stories. Vitriol.
From song to spit spanning an eve.
I amuse the transient courtiers,
fake love, fake hate in delicate balance,
kiss the feet then stab the heart
and the duplicity is just an act.

In but a few short hours
the night will welcome them all.
In but a few short hours
the darkness will claim their souls.

Saints and shadows now sleep
in soft warm beds of feather-down,
the bones of feasting lay cold
like the dead ash in the inglenooks,
and their minds wander through dreams
that no scribe may steal.

The focus of my madness fades
as the horizon is neatly sliced
by a shiver from the sun,
my eyes watch the darkness retreat.
I release a long-held breath
that I stole at the Dusk of a day,
of a yesterday that matters no more,
to embrace the new day with hope.

I confess.
To the moment of Dawn:
I said the duplicity is just an act.
I lied.
And now … I may sleep.


© Pagan Paul (14/02/21)
.
Francie Lynch Jul 2016
Each night
The sliver grows
Like young buck antlers,
Gambolling
Beneath the thunderous claps
Gathering
Over our part
Of the world,
In July.
July moon is known as the "Full Buck Moon" or the "Thunder Moon."
nivek Jun 2015
the cow herd across the road
shepherd their calves
the gambolling young
-to be burgers in a bun
with fries and ketchup
I said that there only were ninety steps
To the drop at the edge of the cliff,
As long as she didn’t take ninety one,
She wouldn’t end up as a stiff.
She’d only been blind since the accident
When the car got away from me,
Went rolling, gambolling on down the hill
And ending up flat by a tree.

And Cindy went straight through the windscreen
She shattered the glass she went through,
She screamed out to me that she couldn’t see,
She cried, ‘I’m just looking for you!’
But I was sat pinned by the steering wheel
I couldn’t get out if I tried,
I said, ‘Don’t distress, they’ll fix you up yet,’
One look at her eyes said I lied.

We came up to move in to ‘Ocean View’,
The house overlooking the sea,
I thought that the air would be good for us,
And the view would be okay for me.
I paced out the steps to the edge of the cliff
And reported to Cindy as such,
As long as she kept to her boundary
She wouldn’t fall over - (Not much!)

It isn’t much fun when your partner is blind
When everything has to be done,
She took it for granted that I wouldn’t mind
So sat on the porch in the sun.
I washed and I cooked and I tidied the house,
While she took her lessons in braille,
My life wasn’t funny, but she had the money,
I felt I was living in jail.

I walked with her right to the edge of the cliff
But always stopped seven steps short,
I said, ‘When you venture away from the house,
Remember the cliff is due North.’
I tried to impress it was safer to stay
Within ninety steps from the edge,
What I hadn’t told, as my blood had run cold
It was Eighty Eight steps to the ledge.

They’d say it was ******, I’d say it was fate
If she finally fell from the cliff,
I would say, ‘what the odds, it was up to the gods,’
And ‘life, it was full of ‘what if?’
My plans came to nothing, she drowned in the bath
But I still felt as guilty as sin,
I knew I’d had ****** there deep in my heart
And that evil is doing me in!

David Lewis Paget
Beneath the sallow,
At break of the night
He waits,
The moonlight dusted upon his pale
Fickle
Skin
Periodically, of course
For no longer than a second
Does the mark of silvery light
Linger in one place,
Most of it pushed aside
By the gambolling tears of green
Wept by the weathered
Old
Sallow’s skeleton grown up into the sky.
For context, a sallow is a weeping willow. Considering the other meaning of the word, I thought that made it even more dreary of a tree. The poem has nothing to do with this, I was just bored.
Joe Wilson Apr 2015
O road take me back to my country home
Speed me quick for my heart missed it so
For wealth and good fortune I foolishly roam
Now home-bound I once again go.
To the trees and blossom of Springtime
Even to the bare twigs of Fall
Yet even to the frost of a cold Winter’s rime
In the country I feel I am all.

Once I travelled o’er great oceans deep
I saw beautiful skies so bright blue
Yet I dreamt of you whenever I’d sleep
In countryside of lovely green hue.
For much as I love the hill and the ride
And all of the beauty found there
If I couldn’t sense you here by my side
Such bounty would just seem so bare.

So over  great oceans I travel once more
I’m heading to you darling dear
My heart it is calling to one I adore
It beats faster as home draws me near.
O darling I can’t bear to leave you again
This journey is the last I’ll pursue
In the country with you, my very best friend
We will live under our sky of blue.

And on days perhaps spent in woods near the lake
Watching woodpeckers , jays and the brambling
We’ll sit by the lake with a picnic we’ll take
Watching lambs in the fields as they’re gambolling.
Our hearts will be full and so satisfied
We’ll walk hand-in-hand by the shore
We’ll play ducks and drakes and watch the stones glide
Who could ever want anything more.

At night our arms each other enfold
We’d lie in passionate embrace
Our love we’d give in manner so bold
And I’d watch your beautiful face.
I’d wonder how lucky a man such as I
Could ever have been so well blessed
Such thoughts would make me silently cry
As we lie in our cottage now at rest.

©Joe Wilson – My beloved and my country…2015
nivek Jun 2016
When the solitude of the desert full blooms
and your soul dances with the summer
all things are possible when love calls

Far off within the weaving of nature
a voice rises with the warmth of a breeze
and the songs of poets ring in your ear

Bird song and mooing of cattle and calves
the lambs all bleating gambolling play
while the sky paints you endless pictures.
Cold, close-******
Gluttonous grave
Please release
My age-old friend
From gambolling fields
Schools,college
Working place
To blessed bed!

Cold, close-******
Gluttonous grave
Please release
My wife and my life
My life and my wife
My love and my dove
My dove and love,
For my heart is her tomb
She leased with love
From her mother's womb!
A n old poet friend of mine once told me he did  write such a poem which he lost.He is dead now.
nivek Apr 2017
the cows have been set loose from their wintering in the byres
calves are being born and cavorting in the fields
they roam far and wide on our Island, munching their way through the grass.
Having lived in this property for seven summers now, I recognise each and every cow, they come close to the end of the garden at times and I go out and speak cattle talk to them, moos coming out my throat, I am sure I look quite mad to anyone who may happen along.
The calves stay in crèche, minded by their mothers, their gambolling play just like children, chase, hide and seek, and the males test their strength by way of mock head on battles.
The almost constant mooing comes through the open windows, a most lovely sound of calling voices across the fields.
The Bull will soon be separated and will stand at his fence bellowing to the skies. Summer here truly is my bit of Heaven on Earth, for others a complete Hell, but hey it takes all sorts as we all know.
nivek May 2017
The Sun claims as her own
sea, field and hill

Gambolling new life, lambs
feed from mothers proud

Cows and calf roam the summer
pasture all their own

This sedate time of plenty
unfolds as if a dream.
nivek Mar 2017
show me one leaf of spring
the return of the song of the Cuckoo
lambs and calves gambolling the fields
show me one leaf of spring,
Pagan Paul Apr 2020
.
It builds over time,
weeks and months go by,
the wave rising higher.
That urge to run run away.

To leave all behind and flee
from what is to come,
from what cannot be controlled
from the darkness
that threatens to overwhelm,
and drown the unstable stability
of exiting this time and space.
The necessity for escape
growing from a panicked seed
shivering in the mind,
unaware of the root of danger,
yet perceiving something.
Something that is really there
but intangible in mist,
waiting in the shadows to consume
the logical and the rational,
promoting the need to withdraw,
to isolate with stark completion in chaos.

If you cannot see the sense in senseless
then you are missing the point.
But when the point of reference shifts
then the less sense the sense makes.
Disassociation and detachment occur
driving before them a storm surge
of discord and confusion,
crashing through the thoughts of order,
losing perspective to a dark aftermath.

Trapped within a nervous disposition,
an out of kilter anxiety
and gambolling out of control
towards a stillness of vaccuum.

And then implosion.
The big bang on time lapse in reverse
as self- absorption takes hold
and the isolation task is completed,
pleasing greatly that urge to run run away.


© Pagan Paul (07/04/20)
.
nivek Aug 2017
the lambs are gambolling, calves frolicking
and all the baby birds have fledged

what has your spirit given birth to?
while all this procreation has fruited.

Oh single person, you are loved beyond measure
and your lover is love itself.
nivek Feb 2019
Sunshine and bubbles.
Goodbye to puddles.
Spring lambs gambolling.
nivek Feb 23
the gambolling young
in green fields of fun
the vigour of Spring
Joanna Garrido Dec 2018
Castleton in early Spring, winter lingers - slow to leave
Warm sun’s rays and chill of wind, daffodils along the stream
overlooked by distant hill the ruins of fine Peveril
And in the fields the lambs at play, never fails to thrill

Up high we climb to Hollins Cross, spectacular the views
The Great Ridge to the left and right, unsure which path to choose
The Mother Hill is calling  from her elevated height
Left we  climb, Back Tor, Lose Hill far behind us to the right

The Shivering Mountain she is known, we shiver as we climb
Strengthening gusts, our caps held down,
But on the ground time after time
We reach the summit, touch the trig, the wind still blowing strong
Easter hols and busy, can’t take pics for long

Down we go the pathway steep, look back along the Tor
Remarking on its eastern face, the mini-hills on show
The Blue John mines, the caverns, a few are further down
And weave our way along the paths till we are back in town

One delight - a little lamb had wandered, in our way
Scuttling fast at Mother’s call, she sadly did not stay
No sweeter sight, the playful lambs when gambolling young and free
If only they outlived the Spring, and always so could be

Some turn into their mothers, slow and bloated, eat and eat
and most males simply disappear and reappear as meat
To stomach such a meat as lamb repugnant to my heart
Best not to dwell too much on this, it’s now time to depart

To Spring, to life, to climbing peaks, to see the lambs another day.
Back Tor, Lose Hill to the right, to Hollins Cross the Edale way.

JG 10.4.18
Yenson Jan 2021
Shoals of halfwits and semi-illiterates
submerged or lumpy in dense affray
all  seeing mists fog as they go gaga
hearing music in gaga-speak
meathead lyrics for dunces

befuddled minds see declaration
of intention in sound track fit
merely  ancomplement to ambience
but this was too sublime for drop-outs
vigilantes
and frenzied vacuous minds
ribald loonies only sees genitalia
that's all on their bonces

the bespoke thoughts of twisted minds
capricious heathens' translations goes awry
vigilantes hopping in meltdowns
to show uselessness is an inherent gene
a line begs give my byes to soul and romance
all the village ***** grasped was surrender
all they deduced was romance
ah.... the futility of the unwise
its not only in Wales that sheep roam
gambolling in vacant fettle
most are living in blocks
and they are clothed and shoed

Are they human or denser......
This is about how Covid 19 travelled from China...well people believe anything. so there!
nivek Mar 21
patchwork fields heavy with lambs kicking up their heels
and the gambolling calves all in a creche watched over by aunts
all new born this spring
all from the wellspring
all from the deeps of mystery
brand new to the skies of the World and of the Universe.

— The End —