Tag Archives: poem

Aoudads


Aoudads are enormous, proud, and graceful animals.
The largest have sweeping beards from chest to hoof,
thick horns curling behind them,
and a critical goaty gaze
which sees you from its perch
high in the desert rocks
and seems to say, “what low thing
squints up at my grandeur?”

Their strength prevails in a climate
where lesser breeds wither.
Every image on the net
is one of these proud ruminant gods,
dwarfing a human at their side,
head upright,
held aloft by the horns
by a smiling hunter.

Something there is about a god
which drives mankind to kill it.
We suffer nothing to live above us.











Tempered


fomented, divided, abandoned, regained
humbled
we are still children yet

what will tomorrow’s trials teach us?
who will fall?
who will flourish?
what pain will bear
what art?

life does not get easier.
we will have days even worse than this,
enough to tear our souls apart.
unquenchable anger.
unfathomable loss.
we will bend, burn, bellow
and
survive.

if we can listen we can learn

emerging
from each successive conflagration
never victorious
but wiser, truer
more grateful
aligned in the sudden extremes.











Free Space

 

amazing
in this tiny place
enormous emotions

the stimulation is small
home is all we are
where nothing can touch us
safe

still we twitch
wage battles
wound one another
cry hysterically

when the chaos butterfly
flaps its wings indoors
the storm concentrates,
inescapable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

My Very First Poem – How to Find a Wife

 

Let’s go back, back into the misty reaches of my parents’ basement, to rediscover the very first poem to spring from the mind of a five-year-old. An epic adventure about the search for love.

Do I detect hints of greatness, even then? Or was it just sexism? Whichever it was, you can blame the classics.

 


 

How to Find a Wife
by Sarah Silvey

There was once a man who had no life,
He didn’t have as much as a wife!
So he sailed, night and day,
And would always hear his mother say,

“If you shant have a wife,
A soul shall kill you with a knife.”
His mother told him such strange things,
Like giant toads with devils wings.
She liked to give him such a fright,
And somehow convinced him his father was a knight.

He tried to show her he outgrew that now,
She still even called him her little cow,
But his real name was David, David Bough.

David found women miles around,
But none sank his heart down to the ground.
So he sailed on, and how many he found? None.

David heard from a crazy man,
That on the beaches there was sand
And on the sand there were pretty girls,
With goldielocks and golden curls.

So he went there and found it true
With pretty eyes, the darkest blue.

Then he found one,
And love was true,
With pretty eyes, the darkest blue.

Her name was Rose
Which fit her so
And her hair was made of gold
You know.

But all her beauty ruined her fate,
For all women she knew were full of hate.

She married David
Which improved both lives,
for other women knew men couldn’t get Rose
And David, of course, had a wife.

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

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