dozing

The agenda was ready three weeks in advance
and the lecture was polished as well,
and the writers had gathered to hear the bard speak
but he dozed, so the plan went to hell.

Imagine the tempers and blood pressure there
as the podium empty was left ,
and the writers were puzzled to see the blank space
as the bard in his negligence slept.

So here’s the apolology, not an excuse
the bard’s getting old, don’t you see?
and it’s not that he’s nasty nor ignorant now:
it’s just that his brain is at sea.

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drums

[I have been fascinated by drums for most of my life, particularly the highland drums, which are technically amazing and remarkable in their rhythms, which are more complex than anything else I have ever heard. Recently I have been reminded by the return of Battlestar Galactica to TV, that drums are remarkably effective mood instruments—just love those Galactica drums! I particularly like the way they use them to overcome the physical fact that there is actually no sound transmitted in space.]

The drums that shook the earth
before the battle, sent the warriors
up the ladders over the ramparts
roaring—such is in the heart of a tiger
purring, elephant thunder off in the distance
rumble, heart of a lion.

[ If you try to say this with North American animals, the effect is not the same, as we have not set up our beast with the same images: our animals are more secretive, wily, restrained. Worth thinking about.]

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aching ochre

Late afternoon
cold yellow November sun
glares hard down the river
raking the tips of wavelets
gilding the rich textured blues

From the hilltop
see the rush weed beds
sublimely vivid ochre
against golden blues here
dark slashes of wooded land there

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