"giles" poems
An away game at Leeds!
The Loiner Lion will have its feeds.
So it was, back in the day
When Revie’s Men held full sway.
Reaney, Charlton, Hunter, Cooper,
That defence was really super.
David Harvey, ‘keeper complete,
Guaranteed a solid clean sheet.
The midfield ruled by Bremner and Giles,
Billy’s energy, Johnny’s wiles.
Lorimer and Gray down the wings,
Recalling Eddie (Gray), oh my heart sings.
Jones and Clarkey gave us goals,
Lots of them, shoals and shoals.
73-74 our greatest year,
Opponents always full of fear.
Man U relegated that season too,
Better days there were very few.
We won the league by a merry mile,
Time to smile as we did it in style.
In 69 we lost just two from 42.
Opponents didn’t know what to do.
Burnley and City our only losses,
Otherwise we were the bosses.
92 was another good year,
Man U crying in their beer.
Then we sold them Cantona,
That really was a bridge too far.
The rest is history as they say;
We strive again to have our day.
In the second tier on Italian money,
Seeking the land of milk and honey.
The Premiership’s the place where we should be,
Please Messi, join us, on a free!
We hanker for those glory days.
God please help us with your mysterious ways.
Paul Butters
© PB 11\9\2015.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:42 AM UTC
Sere and yellow,
Rough and round, [bright pebbles in a mound]
Pitted and mellow,
Winding our necks round,
We wore them.
Amber beads unearthed from clay,
Fashioned by my artist love,
Glowing yellow, filled with day,
Captures sunbeams from above.
I still love them.
Some say gods have made these,
To ensnare the light of Sun,
But we women saved these,
In memory & hope of sons,
We keep them.
Fat & smooth as butter,
We turned them in our hands.
The bone beads scraped with madder,
The amber just with sand.
Those of shadowy carnelian
Embedded like a shield,
We treasure as we fear them,
Like wounds on battlefields.
The others soaked with brownish earth,
Sere and yellow,
Rough and round, [bright pebbles in a mound]
Pitted and mellow,
Winding our necks round,
We wore them.
So, when we are dead, take not from us,
These rounded, golden suns,
But bury them with us, with sword and severed buss,
To revere the slaughtered ones,
Who never returned to us.
Revised November 15, 2016
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 8:55 AM UTC
In pressing times truth oft' lies so oppressed
And falsehoods rouse to speak in joyed debate
That burdens brought to bear upon the breast
Might anchor nought but will of one testate
What courage leant upon a graven guest
Not thrift of fear in bearing of his fate
But silent as all untruths so expressed,
Except to cry with cursed tongue, "More weight!"
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
There was once a farmer called Giles
Who had the most terrible piles.
He sat in a field
Until they congealed
And his bumhole broke into smiles.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
E G Am
Farmer Giles of Ham
E G Am
Was just an ordinary man.
E G Am
But when a giant came to destroy the village
E G Am
Giles ran outside and shot that giant in the nose
Am
and don't you know, that giant never came back to Ham
Am E
Ever again
E Am
He's farmer Giles of Ham
E G
farmer Giles of Ha am am
G
he's just an ordinary man.
E G Am
The evil dragon Chrysophylax
E G Am
was terrorizing the countryside
E G Am
king Augustus sent a messenger to Ham, he said
E G Am
"Giles he's our man, and if he cant do it
Am
no one can. Fetch me the farmer,
Am E
farmer Giles of Ham
E Am
He's farmer Giles of Ham
E G
farmer Giles of Ha am am
G
he's just an ordinary man.
E G Am
With his coat made of iron rings
E G Am
and the sword given to him by the king
E G Am
Giles went to the dragons lair that day
E G Am
Poor dragon had to give its whole hoard away
Am
and as you can imagine that made the dragon
Am E
very very mad
E Am
At farmer Giles of Ham
E G
farmer Giles of Ha am am
G
he's just an ordinary man.
E G Am
Giles later went on to be the king
E G Am
but he didn't forget his friends i Ham
E G Am
when he moved into castle he brought them all along
E G Am
he even brought his talking dog, and if you recall the dog,
Am E
the dogs name is Gram
E Am
At farmer Giles of Ham
E G
farmer Giles of Ha am am
G
he's just an ordinary man
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 11:17 AM UTC
What
((holds)) you
to unyielding self?
Petrified
you stone your sins
and still miss the mark;
attempt to beat soul
into healing.
Fool.
Even this
nascent struggle
to understand
casts another rock.
Would you lobotomize...
****** a stick
into your eye socket
to see more clearly?
The peine forte et dure is
in the resistance;
you know,
and do not accept
grace
in the hands
easing you toward
the gentle current
of Spirit
washing around you.
Why?
Entombed by need
to atone,
you cannot roll
the rock aside alone.
Stop asking for
"more weight",
Giles Corey...
you are a fearsome man
standing upright.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
Write a Clerihew:
It’s easy to do.
Two rhyming couplets of any length:
Short and simple, that’s its strength.
Remember Johnny Giles
A player with all the wiles.
In midfield he did scheme:
For Leeds he was a dream.
Nicole Scherzinger,
What a messenger.
A Friend so loyal,
Regally royal.
Oh Nick Clegg,
Why did you have to beg
For a Tory-led Coalition,
Sending the Lib-Dems into Perdition?
(PS) All hail be to great Don Newton,
Always had a winning solution.
Played table tennis with flashing blade,
A Legend that will never fade.
Paul Butters
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
What drives men to do such terrible things?
Am I exempt from such a judgment?
From chaos given and innocence stolen
This world is hellbent
On suffering,
One writes
to be left
On misery
one night
is enough
On loneliness
Oh, how I greet it
With open palms raised to the sky
Tonight is a fine night to die
My belly full of pills
Only prescribed
By men and women
Garnished in white
Oh, this will help me sleep
with kings and counselors
For if you look too long,
bloodshot eyes,
The abyss will grab you from your home
Ode to joy
Hallowed be thy name
My eyes burn as I grip this pencil
And an odd smell lingers in this room
The smell of sterilization.
The smell of cleanliness.
The smell of godliness.
It's far too white here
It's far too bright, I fear
I fear for these students
Fellow and brave
Taking this test
While I'm painting my cave
My cave is solitude and I have picked it out from it's mountain
Rocks fell soon thereafter
Now I cannot leave
This was my choice
But I have one regret
I wish I could have stood still
and been crushed to my death
Much like Giles Corey
I am a sinner
More weight, he cried out
From his pressing board
And much like me, his please were ignored
What drives man to do such terrible things?
Passion, my friend
The same passion for which
I sing
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
Did I dream
I saw a funeral
Procession leaving
St. Giles Church?
Sans caisson,
Black horses,
Boots and backward spurs;
No black feathers,
No armbands,
No Oliver's crocodile tears;
No Orleans trumpets
To allay my eternal fears.
I caught them slide
The silver casket,
Bullet-like,
Into a chamber,
To shoot into the ground.
I never heard a sound.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 5:04 PM UTC
You walk along the beach with the sand between and beneath your naked toes, the sun touching your skin, the slight breeze feeling your hair. You stop and stare at the sea, the sound of the waves on the shore, like an old man breathing and sighing. There are no ships today; the horizon is bare; empty. You remember walking along this beach with Giles, his hand in yours, the promises he made, the laughs you both had, the look in his eyes, that smile he had. You smile briefly, wipe your small hand across your lips, try to recall that kiss, gone. The sun is high in the sky, blue with hints of white in the horizon, the sea, the far off places long out of reach. If only I hadn’t found that **** letter, you muse darkly, breathing deeply, sensing the sea air, the sharpness of it, the chill on the lungs, if only you hadn’t seen the words of his betrayal, his words of love to another, her of all people, she who had befriended you. Lies. All of those lies, you muse, those bits of truth and lies together, the devil’s mix, the lying ***** him saying those things to her, and to you he says another, liars both of them. You walk on along the deserted beach, your toes scrunching into the sand, the grittiness between the toes, the sharpness underfoot. We made love over there, you tell yourself, indicating an area of rocks, a secret place you thought was yours and his, where he had uncovered you and under those stars, moon and evening breeze, had entered you. You close your eyes and wonder if he brought her here, made love to her in that place, did to her what he did to you. The possibility haunts you, hurts deeply, drives to walk closer to the edge of the sea and shore. You want the sea to take you; want the waves to swallow you up and spit you up some miles down the coast. A lifeless body, a floating bloated cadaver. But that takes a courage you lack, a courage you do not have, despite your hurt and pain, despite your inner anger. You wish you had not read the letter from his pocket, had not searched, had not seen it and opened up the envelope. If only you had remained in innocence of his betrayal, innocent of all that filth and lies. His words to you that morning, as he rose from bed, as his arms left your side, were so loving, so kind. Ceili, he said, Ceili, you are the morning of my day. Such words. Such words said. The sun is warm on your face, the breeze a little chillier now, the sea a bit wilder, the waves touching your feet, touching your toes. What price betrayal? What reward? You wander along the shore, the sea touching you as he had done, feeling your flesh, sensing your life blood, you stop, turn back, empty your mind, vacate, the you, the memory of loss, the life of betrayal.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
past Rock City we carry the fire!
to the ring; where Führer fights a frail foe!
to conceal what burns at 4 5 1–dire
Big Brother won't notice our hearts aglow
"Understanding: allow their point of view
walk around in their skin; folks are just folks"
Watch the merry-go-round go 'round a few
"More Weight," says Giles, but a witch? deadly hoax
The One Ring finally reaches Mordor
Kings are justly crowned, Bingley marries Jane
The Old Man caught the fish, or so he swore
but Dad, Liesel, Allie, Winston are slain
journeys are sacrificial, lives immured
Cheers to pilgrimage we haven't endured
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC
Giles Corey
What is there, really,
Left to say
When you cannot trust
The honest pay?
Do you, really
Hear the sounds,
Of the clocktowers
coming down?
I do not, really,
Know the time.
We're just acquainted..
No friend of mine.
No friends at all
Are mine, per say.
Just folks to call,
From day to day.
From day to day,
And dusk to dusk.
There's nothing left
But empty husks.
I'd gouge my eyes
With forks and knives,
If that would bring me
To Saint Ives.
Gouge my eyes
At sight of her
Hopes I despise:
empty aquifer.
That saturate the souls
Of bedazzled bums
And homeless ******
Sent to pick the crumbs.
Great fallen father
Oh, dying mother
What way is water?
Who hid the shelter?
Your sons and daughters
Are frightened now.
They cannot win
They don't know how.
We all have fears
Of how we'll fare
When you say,
"We need more engineers.
To build the cities
And the gutters
And the gluttons
And the guillotines
And the gilded glaves that gorey Giles brings.
To pile the stones
On our frail young frames
As we're forced to cry
To **** our names,
"More weight."
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 6:48 PM UTC
*part 3 of 5
Saturday Night*
The Hunters Moon
The late afternoon sun
draped its golden satin light
To the house-staff, Giles
(our man) seemed uptight
The butler Zamira dutifully
stirring his drink right
The sun dipped behind
the poplar trees standing straight
He orders "A Churchill martini"
trying not to sound irate
Giles watched her stirring
stirring as in a hypnotic state
Zamira presented a chilled
frosted riedel martini glass to him
brimming to the top with
Gilpins Westmorland extra dry gin
The sun slowly sank behind trees
as the drink loosened each limb
"You may both leave, till Tuesday"
He said to Zamira and her twin
Liliana (the cook) and the butler
were often dismissed at his whim
They sped off in their green MG
off to the Slaughtered lamb inn
Giles raised his glass
to the bobbing full hunters moon
Waiting was now over
the others would be here soon
First a pinch of Peruvian
sniffed from a little silver spoon
This night had been planned
in detail for almost a year
One final act of courage
and tenacity he must engineer
All hushed...but for the sound
of large cars drawing near
Four black Jaguars and a white refrigerated van
Crunched over the gravel drive towards (our man)
Giles Bradshaw-Behram stood still.
It had began.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
farmer giles he came from wales
he loved the kids and told them tales
he sat down in his rocking chair
telling stories to all those there
make them up from inside his head
until the kids got tired and it was time for bed
always very happy he loved the children so
telling little stories that only he would know
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC
i am broken
there is a darkness within me that creeps across the underside of my eyelids with each blink
a gnawing fog that doesn't let me sleep
a rising flood that refuses to weep
a burning brand in your chest
A yearning to be free from the weight, even if just for a moment. Even if those moments are stolen in the darkness, shame-filled secrets that scorch your hands and your spirit.
Scars that clearly show a battle has been fought, but no one can be sure it has been won.
A tightening grip around your throat that you wish would just finish the job and put you out of your misery
A plea like Giles Corey for "more weight"
/this wicked unrest threatens to tear your soul in two
...but silently, lest anyone should hear./
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 2:19 PM UTC
I was born a magnet
Capable of ******* shrapnel shards
Out of the aching bodies around me
Heat-seeking pain pieces reach me with a purpose
To be transformed into tolerable troubles
Eased by a new outlook and positive spin
Stories need to be told, so strongly so
That at times they burst out unplanned
I carry them like Giles Corey
Demanding more weight
For other’s sake
Lives can be changed if you set out
With the conscious ambition to do so
Mar 10, 2011
Mar 10, 2011 at 9:03 AM UTC
part 4 of 5
three years earlier
The Gallows Society
"This, THIS! I'm so tired of all THIS!"
Blurted Giles as Zamira dressed his wrists
Pathetic! (she thought) A dismal attempt
Then left the room concealing contempt
Giles just stared at the
drip
drip
drip
dripping of the morphine
Candle light danced on the walls
The demons sank back into the shadows
Giles returned to the womb
Basking in weightless warmth
Comfortably apathetic
Numb
The drudgery of the next day unfurled
As Giles accepted defeat around noon
Something had to be done about life
That something had better happen soon
He brunched in his office
and so began his search
All that day
and night
that week
That month
Deeper into the cavernous "dark web"
seeking any answer to end his despair
but every search became a cul-de-sac
No doors opened for this millionaire
No doors would open
All remained firmly locked
Sitting in his office chair
Feverishly typing as he rocked
He rocked as he typed
He swiveled as he clicked
Searching for something
That he was less able to predict
But that something found him
And sent him an invitation
Explaining that they had been watching
Seeing his frustration
Understanding his world view
May he could understand theirs
But before he were to be accepted
He must climb down the seven stairs
He
Must
Climb
Down
The
Seven
Stairs
Distant from the blinding light
Cast yourself from the hallows
Embrace darkness embrace night
Take the Noose and the Gallows.
The mouse pointer hovered
over options "Yes" and "No"
His heart beat quickened
But then came the red glow
of two laser beams from directly behind
circling the yes option
From past the windows' opened blind
"Yes" and the two red dots disappeared
The wheels were put in motion
His future was now commandeered
A force that seemed greater than him
Changed the rules and took control
Embers deep inside of him flickered
Re-igniting the coals of his dark soul
The seven steps awaited him...
What ever could they be?
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC
Ethereal light shines down
On modern Londinium
As we sit by the lake
Near St Giles-without-Cripplegate
Felicity leans forward
Her head slightly bowed
As if in silent prayer
Me – her confessor
Abruptly she stands
Taller than Shakespeare Tower
Why do you always come here?
It’s the antithesis of home
She adjusts her skirt
Last night it seemed too long
A duck lifts its tail feathers
***** on the concrete
Felicity is a rainbow
Most clearly seen during rain
Her moods still move me
Psychedelia made real
Your strange – she says
Your beautiful – my reply
She smiles – her face like coloured glass
The window of a great Cathedral
I see God in your face
I thought you followed Sartre
I did….I do…
This place suits both
I caught you last night
Eyeing that girl
Near Blackfriars bridge
Keep your eyes on the prize
Yes – you did
Now she’s my confessor
But she hadn’t your colour
Your pattern or form
Felicity kisses me
I squeeze her tight
By evening we’ll make love
Leave the ducks to the Barbican.
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
I've been feeling out of breath lately.
My lungs don't inflate properly anymore.
Waking up is the most taxing task that I have to accomplish on a daily basis.
I've been sleeping in,
And even after I wake up I stay in bed for hours.
It feels like the weight of the world
is crushing my chest.
Like an anvil is being dropped on my shoulders a hundred times a day.
I feel like Giles Corey;
Crushed by the weight of falling rocks.
Rocks that look like people I know.
Rocks that feel like sorrow and death and tears.
Being pressed to death by demons that accuse me of wrongness,
by demons who surround my head with dark thoughts;
by demons who claw at my throat,
tell me to do bad things.
I'm constantly running from the black mist in my mind.
Trying not to be swallowed by it.
But I can feel these shadows on my back,
and what lurks in this darkness nipping at my ankles.
And the more I run,
the more out of breath I feel.
And when I turn to give in to the shadows,
I have no more breath.
I can't inhale, because I've been crushed.
I suffocate; I can feel my soul dying a little,
Piece by piece, it crumbles until I am nothing.
I am out of breath now.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC
In an aisle of a great stone church
by flickering light of candles perched
under finials and arches tinged with gold,
flags fly for blood shed on fields of old:
They wave with wistful dreams of war
and tell of great esprit de corps
in a house made holy for a prince of peace
whose dreams of love they speak of least
Oct 8, 2024
Oct 8, 2024 at 1:29 PM UTC
Nothing escapes the all consuming march of time!
As KALI consumed time and space
Her dimensions grew and grew
Her skin darkened to deep space black
From unfathomable ocean blue
Rivers of obsidian flowed as her wild hair
Untamed, magnificent, streaming
Three blood red eyes past, present, future
Decided who needed redeeming
Four arms, three of which were grasping
A sword, a spear, a bowl
The fourth grabbed a Thuggee's head
Sword decapitated the soul
A crimson red snake of a tongue lashed
Out for every drop of blood
Then the sword slashed every throat there
Her tongue lapped up the flood
KALI'S gaze finally cast upon terrified Giles
Evaporating his body with fire
Conscience was all that remained in that dimension
His conscience changed KALI'S desire
Frightful fury morphed in to motherly compassion
Her skin back from black to blue
Spewing out rearranged history, time and space
No other being could construe
But a mother must teach her children lessons
So she left Giles not without guilt
A ****** message painted on his forehead
And a sword driven to its hilt
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC
What
((holds)) you
to unyielding self?
Petrified
you stone your sins
and still miss the mark;
attempt to beat soul
into healing.
Fool.
Even this
nascent struggle
to understand
casts another rock.
Would you lobotomize...
****** a stick
into your eye socket
to see more clearly?
Suffering is
in the resistance;
you know,
and do not accept
grace in the hands
easing you toward
the gentle current
of Spirit
washing around you.
Why?
Entombed by need
to atone,
you cannot roll
the rock aside alone.
Stop asking for
"more weight",
Giles Corey...
you are a fearsome man
standing upright.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
See how the others live
garnish your morning gruel with gossips
makes your cold porridge taste just a bit better
search out the tit-bits and the juicy blue parables
all from the House of Windsors can never be fake-news
when Princes bed seventeen aged maiden cold teas taste hot
gloom and doom means pep-ups, a smile and a spring to their steps
in rarefied air the stench of the ghettos and the belches from drains
should whiff in polluting and disturbing the perfumery of gentility
and why not...do they hear the cries of the motherless babies
or listen to the frustrations of the thieves having a no dice day
as Joan sells her body to pay the loan-arranger yesterday
and Jason is so bothered looking for a fix down the alley
do they know Roger took his own life cos he had no job
yes to sit and hear of the pain and sufferings high above
makes cold toasts and bacon of-cuts that much sweeter
and as the kettle whistles away they hope the vapour
clears the grimes of trodden lives and deadend roads
and rain hot molten ashes on the Semites and Giles
and madam in the big house up in the green Hills
and the Garters and Coronets all burn in Hell
with their socks on......
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 4:45 PM UTC
Xavier
was the posh kid
in the top steam
at high school.
His girlfriend
was a dream
brain dream
night dream
wet dream.
He talked to me
about knives
a Waffen SS one
brought back
by his old man
from WW2.
A Japanese
curved one
and a flick knife
his cousin
gave him
from some hood
in the City
and others
I forgot as soon
as he said.
Have you
any knives?
he asked.
Just a penknife
I said
what's your
girlfriend's name?
He gazed at me
Penelope
he replied
we live close by
and go to the same
tennis club
and last month
went on holiday
to Corfu
with our parents
of course.
I didn't doubt
one moment
the parents
would be around.
He walked off
with a chump
named Giles.
But his girlfriend
shared my dreams
day and night
dry and wet
and no parents
about
in my dreams
of me
and Penelope.
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 2:19 PM UTC
Lying in the dark,you see,every opportunity everything within your power harness the wind that torments the flower, harvest the day that harvests the hour. Lying in the dark,you see ,dreams of your own destiny tow the haul that seeks to be in the fathom of my sea,hold me tight with pure devotion deep in the green graves of this ocean Lying in the dark,you see,everything that lays to be,without the thoughts we would never find the revolving carousels' of my mind. By Jake giles
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 8:57 AM UTC