soundofmanywaters

The Clown If I must inhabit Venus’ happy court I would be her jester, Make her joys my sport. I’d threaten all the lovebirds To turn them into pie, Arraign the silly butterflies For thinking they could fly. “Nymph? She’s just a peasant, Her swain is just a churl.” I’d mock the moonstruck gallant And his maudlin girl. With sweet acerbic jibing I’d follow them all day. Though they’d just say I’m teasing I’d ease my tears away. They’d be too busy loving To give much mind to me And I’d forget in laughter The pain they never see. Hidden Set your mind on things above… For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. Colossians 3 My life is hidden in God with Christ my Lord My death an echo of his sundered grave My song is tuning to a distant chord My soul, dawn stirring in a twilit wood In longing for his light is all my love My life is hidden in God with Christ my Lord Hear now the chirrup of a waking bird While light is yet to creep through clouds above My song is tuning to a dist...

Bottom, A New Orpheus, The Clown Bottom I hope that others look on me as deep, Witty, perhaps, serene and debonair: But I’m known by the company I keep And I’ve got you behind me everywhere. Others I try to approach with dignity To give a good impression to their mind: I turn to go, another view of me Presents – yours is the face I leave behind. My softest paper shows consideration, I faithfully transport you to the loo: Why must you interrupt my conversation And air what hardly passes for your view? Prelates and professors, potentates, Please don’t look down on me for my poor bottom: Bezos, Mark Zuckerberg, and William Gates, And Taylor Swift - you all know you’ve got ‘em. Almighty Lord, that has made all things well, You know the secrets that we try to hide. You know it’s bad for us when egos swell: You gave us bottoms to bring down our pride. A New Orpheus The Muse is a flighty bird and proud Who stays half hidden in her high cloud, Will not flit down and talk to those Who would be ...

SoundofManyWaters Collection 9: Relating Furies and Gorgons, Bone of my Bone, Semaphore, Bearing the Image     Furies and Gorgons   Blusterless Agamemnon The wind gone from your sails Buy a fair breeze With your daughter’s blood And get a hurricane With talons in it.   Medusa rises from the abyss With serpents rising from her hair Each slithering shape gazing With the face of the oppressed: Despised daughters, belittled Sisters, grieving mothers, Abandoned widows and Rejected lovers.   Quick, Perseus! Raise your mirror before their stares Strike home into your stony heart.     Semaphore   Somewhere we lost the knowing of each other We made an image, stuck it on a shelf. Now you are left so many lies to smother And I must labour on to lose myself.   Now mountains rise between us, gaunt and high And no-one knows what we are waiting for. Who will be first to scale them,...