Parle, mon âme !

Confie-moi Tes songes, tes penchants naturels Tes histoires, tes transports de joie Mon âme, abandonne ce caractère timide une fois! Soit autrement, reviens chez moi!


We Ride North, Awaken!

Set aside dull labour, set aside cold pleasure We ride for the mountains, for the evergreen treasure Ah! The call of the Lord of the Snows has come We ride North, awaken! We ride North! Set aside raiment of silk, set aside flag of white We ride for the mountains, for every man's birthright Ah! … Continue reading We Ride North, Awaken!

The Lament Of The Maiden-Daughter

O my father, why do they bear thee hence? O father, from this thy hearth and thy haven? Thou, so tall, so proud, so brave, so strong! Thou to lie still, silent, stiff upon a pallet! Thou thunderless, as they bore thee along Thou, with thy voice blood-kin to a mallet! Thou to hear unmoved … Continue reading The Lament Of The Maiden-Daughter

The Unceasing Plaint of The Sea

Ash-grey shafts shot out of the cliff rock, racing into the embrace of the clouds. Stone sewn seamlessly to stone, the jagged steely glitter spiralled thrice, curtaining a little piece of the earth from the hungry sea. The chain of craggy cliffs slung out along the wavering shoreline, their hoary heads held high in defiance … Continue reading The Unceasing Plaint of The Sea

The Land Of The Lost

Come we will an the road is open, Come we will an the door swings ajar, The land we glimpsed longing from fens afar, Shall now be ours to make or mar! Unto the gate we shall be holpen, There with ye forever spar. Perish not, then; cry instead, 'War! War! War! ' After, the … Continue reading The Land Of The Lost

Black Roses

(First published in The Ravi 2015) I flee the jaws of Time's story As they snip me apart twig by twig Black Roses nesting In the flesh that was broken Sand sweeps in, questing Eternity's whittling me down to a sprig An Enting lost in a paper factory

The Tailor

[On Death and the Miser by Hieronymus Bosch] 'Now if we take it in a little at the waist, so - And drape the edge over the left arm - Then, good sir, be ye visiting high or low Ye shall give them goodly cause for alarm!' So spake our worthy tailor to his grisly … Continue reading The Tailor