Old Meg she was a Gipsy,
    And liv'd upon the Moors:
Her bed it was the brown heath turf,
    And her house was out of doors.

Her apples were swart blackberries,
    Her currants pods o' broom;
Her wine was dew of the wild white rose,
    Her book a churchyard tomb.

Her Brothers were the craggy hills,
    Her Sisters larchen trees--
Alone with her great family
    She liv'd as she did please.

No breakfast had she many a morn,
    No dinner many a noon,
And 'stead of supper she would stare
    Full hard against the Moon.

But every morn of woodbine fresh
    She made her garlanding,
And every night the dark glen Yew
    She wove, and she would sing.

And with her fingers old and brown
    She plaited Mats o' Rushes,
And gave them to the Cottagers
    She met among the Bushes.

Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen
    And tall as Amazon:
An old red blanket cloak she wore;
    A chip hat had she on.
God rest her aged bones somewhere--
    She died full long agone!

Like a small bird
gathering bright objects for her nest,
I am gathering life.

Hands which reached out to me lead me on,
so I left at their bidding
for an ocean in the East.

Traveling through the night
as if lost in a waking dream,
I came at last to her proximity
and slept in an unknown room.

In the morning light,
beyond the highways,
I suddenly saw her, all April morning
blue and still.
Ocean water bathed my feet,
rinsed the crystal beads and pearls
I had worn to greet her.

Deep in the woods now, I see temples everywhere.
In the woodland light, some churches are.
Pagodas of bark and moss in the filtered light,
Ice caverns blue and still begin to melt
beside the waterfall that thunders down,
breathing mist in our faces, garlanding itself
in rainbow light.

In the small city airport
I am folded into the arms of my mother-of-pearl.
Salt water flows easily from my eyes -
like the sweet nectar filling my mouth.
"E facile per le farfalle di volare, sai."

I walk out into the grey-wet airfield,
screaming sounds of engines.
Walking forward, I close my eyes,
and the world is only light.

Now, I have come back to you,
with marzipan, and peacock feathers,
and stories of my adventures.

The light blazes, and the stars
send down their song.

The Universe is singing.

It’s all pretence, I see, my Dear
This facade that you live so well,
Your look, your walk,  the very talk
Convinces most, but I can tell,
That just beneath your garlanding
There lives a soul so insecure,
So nervous in a measured way,
That  every second... you perform
To structure a collapsing day.

Softly and with gentle touch
I kiss your anxious, fevered brow,
Stroke the tightness in your neck
Reassure that you know now,
Your secret is secure with me.
I step aside and beam to you
My silent, warm applause, my Dear
For your command performance
Holds at bay this constant fear.

Marshalg
In quiet admiration.
11 May 2011

To She
who whet
the corven wing,
her skin pulled back
an open firth unraveling
her scarlet mood

the first
among the thirsting.

To Her
that swallowed whole,
the rye, the blade
that clipped the startled shoulder,
carpal deep in gleaming brine,
who shivered time a potent pleasure,

Garlanding
the golden hurt,
that life was
never hers..

Beholden to
a tethered ransom
rivered in her stars...

Mould from nothing
Baby steps beginning
Patience a Vitue
Rookie years
Figuring the prescription
Knowledge of the game
Future Hall of Fame
Every Aspirant the Same
Hopeful at the Start
Imparts the Art
Selfless in Approach
A Coach

Player taking shape
Coach and his grace
Nevers accepts mediocrity
Intense practice a necessity

Excellence pursued
Day in Day out
Foundation laid
Brick by Brick
Game built

Best you can  be
What the Coach tries to be
Urges you to copy
Final results vary

Sheds light in the dark
If it merges with the dark
Holds hands guiding
Other end of the tunnel
Darkness left behind
Light at the end
Signals start
To display the Skill
And the power of Will

Placed ahead of God
By the will of God
Did someone Coach God
Not a far off thought

Technical expertise first
Mental conditioning after
Physical fitness above the two
Complete responsibility on the Coach to do

Participation in Competition
Coach the Companion
Friend Philosopher Guide
Multiple roles
Plays them all

Barriers become Milestones
Preasure becomes Privilege
Aim becomes Trophy
Glory becomes basking in

Date with Centrestage
Made at an early age
Ability to gauge
Even Sport needs a Sage

Forefront his backyard
Rallying behind his front porch
Sidelines his garden of Eden
Peanut Gallery his Gate

Motivation the key
Inspiring by being
Champion in Game
Human in Life
A Coach does all
But does not tell

Career Graph
Various points
Thick and thin
Rain or Shine
Hope still high
Reaches for the sky
Out of the black hole
Continues his role

Coach reviews from pupil
Coach  Relates to pupil
Give and take relationship
Long term partnership

Perseverance and Endurance
Taught and Profiecient
Feet on the podium
Medal garlanding the neck
His job well done
Return expects none

Winner or loser
Opportunity to tutor
Builds character
Boy into a Man
Permanent change
Code to live by
All the money
In the world cant buy

Mentor for the player
Built layer by layer
Strives on reflected results
On his life deeply affects

Teacher and Protege
No longer separate
Thought and action
Relate and duplicate
Alter Ego for the other
There is no another
Trainer Trainee Merger
The world to conquer
Finality for both Student
one with the Coach

His sweat creates skill
His tears creare talent
His blood creates  Victory
His sacrifice creates Legends

Walks into Sunset
Players after they retire
Coach ready
For the next Understudy