Author Archives: Words from a Lentil Institution

I have been thinking lately upon why the sky is blue – and other serious questions.

When I walk

I think –

Or, at least,

I think

I think.

Or, do I?

Staring at blue skies

is hardly committing my brain

to the act of work.

And putting words together

in a stream of consciousness

could be done

by anyone.

I consider the big issues,

the pertinent topics,

the—

and, then, I see

a butterfly,

and my thoughts turn,

on a sixpence,

to the trivial,

the trite…

the aerodynamics

of a butterfly’s flight…

which, thing, actually,

isn’t trivial,

or trite –

am I right?

Well, am I?

Magpie

I found a mag

in my pie –

I don’t know how it got there,

I fail to know the reason why,

that, on such a day as this,

there is a mag

within my pie.

The Warblings of Birds.

Two black blackbirds

with bright yellow beaks

were sat, discussing poetry,

philosophy,

and The Company of Leeks’.

The first black blackbird,

commented thus,

‘If I could come back,

through the myth of reincarnation,

I’d like to be a bus.’

The second black blackbird,

Unfalteringly replied,

‘Fare’s fair: ‘tickets please!’,

‘A little less fuss!’

‘Please move further inside!’ ‘

A wizened owl,

perched close by,

considered the words,

elucidating the wisdom

from the warblings of birds.

Another Flower

I saw another

and another

in a hedgerow

but, not in a row,

randomly spread

out and about;

they caught my eye,

the colourous shades

made an impression,

so I

made a digression,

and took

a closer look.

I am not a man (with a master plan).

I am not a man

with a master plan;

I don’t have the ability

to push a pram –

I don’t have a pram.

Even if I did have a pram

I would be loathe to push

a pram

with no occupant…

what sort of weirdly strange person

do you think I am?

Oh, that sort;

well, that’s fair enough, then.

A Flower

Growing wild,

living free,

saffron waves

noticed by me;

I have no knowledge

of the make or model

I just love the colour –

would I love you half as much

if you were fifty percent duller?

The Village idiom – A Tanka

‘Who are you?’ you ask;

‘I am the Village Idiom’,

I reply, smiling,

‘And I am over the moon

about the whole debacle.’