In a thousand years from now
will things be just the same,
when they’ve changed so much in a hundred?
And, would we be able to claim
knowledge of a place
where we thundered in youth
and withered in age,
when the world spins ever quicker,
just to reach a final stage?
We walk these streets
as those before,
and look out to sea
from that same shore;
but, tomorrow is another day,
what happens then…
well, who can say?
I’ve watched you for a thousand years,
I’ll watch a thousand more,
I am the one who helps your boat
reach safely to the shore.
For when you are in peril
a-sailing on the sea;
you might needs pray to someone
and that someone might be me.
I woke up this morning
(da dada da da!)
and found that I only had nine toes!
Where, is it,
when a man is missing a toe,
where is it
that he goes?
Nobody knows.
So, for a toe,
I suggest
that there should be
a faux toe shop
where they can add on
the missing toe –
the one that has gone.
And, if, subsequently,
one happens to find
the missing digit,
you’ll have a spare
in hand (so to speak)
and won’t have to pay
the faux toe shop
a visit.
“Nadelik Lowen!”
I called to all the people.
“Kynnyav yw!” they cried.
The leaves are falling
everywhere around me,
so, ‘Merry Christmas!’
——
or, not an Autumnal Haiku (7,5,5)
Everywhere around me
leaves are falling,
so, ‘Merry Christmas!’
Posted in Poetry
See here for my original Adlestrop Sequence
I want a job as a passenger.
A passenger?
Yes, a passenger, preferably upon a train. I don’t mind doing a full day’s passengering, but I’d like to miss the rush hours, and I’m not too keen on the Underground. So, a leisurely, all-stops-stopping route where I could start near to my home, and finish… near to my home would be just the job.
Do you live near to a railway station?
Oh, yes. I live very close to Adlestrop.
Adlestrop?
Yes. It’s a brisk walk. Most convivial to the health.
Okay. I shall process your application, and I expect we shall be in touch.
Soon?
I wouldn’t hold your breath.
Okay, thank you.
Good day!
Ticket’s please!
Sorry?
Nothing.
The Picts lived in Scotland
back when it was called something else – before becoming Albanese, and then Scottishland –
as you do,
or, at least, as they did,
in Victorian times,
or slightly before
(my history knowledge being sketchy at best,
they are blue and hairy,
with naer’ee a vest
between them)
and please excuse my accent,
as I am from just south of the border
by a few hundred miles,
and my accents are a bit hit and miss
I’ll admit it, with smiles,
and I don’t mean to diss
respect the Scotch nation,
I’ve even been there
and seen their elation
at the weather, and the cold;
it makes them of brave heart,
or so I’ve been told;
and porage with salt
is what they all eat,
with extra salt on Sundays,
as a “special” auld treat.
And there’s haggis and the caber,
bagpipes and neeps,
tartan and custard,
heather and sheeps;
and Nessy in a loch
whom you never will see,
and there’s one other thing you won’t see in Scotland,
which is a sassenach like me.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Pictorian, #Picts, #poetry. #poem, #Scotch, #Scottish, #Victorian
“I’m Telyn, the Harp.”
“Telling the harp what?”
“No. My name is Telyn, and I am a harp. The Harp.”
“Oh.”
“And what, may I ask, are you?”
“May you well ask. I am… fanfare of drums… a piece of metal that has been twisted into a shape.”
“A triangle.”
“That’s it. I have been twisted into a triangular shape… but, I don’t know what I am called.”
“Perhaps, ‘Tingy’ might be a good name for you.”
“Ooh! That would be lovely. Tingy the thing made into a triangular shape. How happy I am!”
And with that, he struck himself on the head with a small rod of metal.
“Ting!!!!”
Telyn sighed, a lovely glissando of a sigh, but, a sigh nevertheless.
delyow omhweles
my a yll aga gweles
onen hag oll.
leaves fall down
I can see them
one and all.
Thor looked down
upon the town
at all the milling people.
Thor thought deeply,
about all manner of things,
and today he thought about… hats.
‘Some people wear hats,’
he mused to himself,
‘whilst others do not.’
thus thought Thor the Thoughtful Seagull.
Then he went on to think of other things.
©️graemesandford.com
 | Lokesh Umak on We counted them out |
| Lokesh Umak on We counted them out |
 | Words from a Lentil… on We counted them out |
| Lokesh Umak on We counted them out |
| Words from a Lentil… on Down the Looe! |
