Andalus' poetry

[Jubal]

"All hail the speaker of no hatred!"
"Let us make him our leader!"
"We shall obey his command!"
"What does the speaker say to his people?"
"The speaker... demands... toilet training!"
 

It's a good poem, though the rhythm scheme feels off in places - "Homo sapiens sapiens", for example.

[Andalus]

It's a good poem, though the rhythm scheme feels off in places - "Homo sapiens sapiens", for example.

Maybe that was deliberate! Maybe it was to symbolise that our species is out of rhythm!

Or maybe it wasn't... WE MAY NEVER KNOW.

[Cuddly Khan]

Maybe... maybe I can't wait for you next one.

[Andalus]

This is pretty much a nonsense poem, but feel free to make sense of it if you will.

Wayside Man

He stood with one leg in the air,
Beside a road that led nowhere.
A lonely, beaten, hilltop lane,
That rose straight up and down again.

He stood with one leg in the air,
His face was covered by his hair.
His teeth were brown, his clothes were worn,
His naked feet were ripped and torn.

He stood with one leg in the air,
Where silent crowds climbed up to stare
With faces blank and lips all still.
He stood one-legged on the hill.

He stood with one leg in the air
And spoke to all who'd gathered there.

"A question seems to come from you,
An answer in return is due,
The answer that I'm sure you beg.
Why do I stand here on one leg?"

He stood with two legs on the floor
And bade them question him no more.

[Cuddly Khan]

It makes some sense. It's not completely nonsense

[Andalus]

Autumn Rust

The ground is stained with rust,
Where the poison has leaked out,
To spoil all the world with red decay.
Hopeless cogs now squat and wither,
No longer spinning, shine all gone,
Longing for a remembered better day.

[Cuddly Khan]

I just love how you can write a poem about almost anything. What about a poem about The Hill?

[Andalus]

Carpet Shop

"Quality wool rich twist in twelve natural flecked shades",
"An inspirational carpet collection" eager to kiss your feet
With names like Crossland Berber, Lima Twist, Rustic Retreat.

Carpets from the finest of designers from Rugeley to Milan.
The apogee, the apex, the zenith, the... quite nice,
In rolls displayed and laid out where you can't quite see the price.

In earthy speckled hues infused as if you dwelt in a mud hut,
Or Arabesque or Ottoman or Persian if it'll please
To pretend you pay the rent of scented palaces in the east

And weren't living in a two by two with a microwave and a cat,
Two stops from the back end of nowhere, twinned with hell,
To stare through condensation until Satan rings your bell.

[Cuddly Khan]

I like it. I got a bit lost in the last paragraph though.

[Andalus]

Evening's Flight

The evening falters away, backstepping
Nervously into the night,
Tearfully, unwillingly,
As the nightingale weeps goodbye.
The dusk is afraid of the dark,
Flickering like a hummingbird,
Like Ingrid Bergman stuck in pause,
Trying to turn away.

An echo etched into a woodcut,
Rolled out in black and white
And smudged, that farewell across the pale,
Trembling horizon,
Running down in sobbing sunset,
As the evening flees away.
The last fingers of light linger
And clouds slip over the glass moon
That's left behind.

[Andalus]

Leaves

Sleeping on water, just as on dry ground,
The leaves do not care for where they are found.
They fly only because they've been set free,
To roam, find any home away from the tree.

[Andalus]

Clockwork

Earlier today, I bought a wooden clockwork clock,
Prized away from the dusty shelf in a cluttered charity shop.
Now I see it still says two and the crooked hands still stay
Where I left them, when I set them, earlier today.
So it seems this clock doesn't work and refuses to sing
With a tick or a tock - but it's still a pretty thing.

[Andalus]

This one still has much room for improvement, but I want to post it while it is still topical.

Sirens on Christmas Day

The first one came during dinnertime,
A police car screaming by.
It's all we can hear in here
Of the world that hides out there.
The blue siren jeered
And faded away to arrest the criminal,
The serial cat burglar
Stuck in someone's chimney.

Once gone, Sunday silence screamed louder
As I emptied the peelings of parsnips,
Sprouts, carrots, potatoes, onions,
Into the black vats of garden rot
And quick retreated back inside,
To unwrap my cracker in silence,
The snapping fuse untouched,
As I prised out the plastic tweezers.

Later, as we slumped
Among shimmering, unfolded paper
And the peelings of tape,
A second racer came,
An ambulance, this time.
The slower, dirging wail,
For someone's lonely granny,
Choking on a wishbone.

I'm still waiting for the fire engine
To extinguish the inferno
That wreaths the house next door
With strings and wire antlers,
And to douse the firestorm
Started in a carpenter's workshop,
A blameless candle upset
By a juddering, misplaced nail.

[Andalus]

Something Like Ice

A parade of white flecks swills
And among the current swirls,
And flies, escaping downstream,
Rising from beneath to breath its steam,
Against the stones of the pillars
That carry the Usk bridge aloft,
In triumph across the conquered span.

The river rushes too rapid
To falter and freeze to ice,
Even for a hesitant moment,
To be broken and fragmented,
To meet defeat and demise
Before the gathering swell,
To barely rise before it fell.

The river rushes strong and wide,
On its road the dancing column, white,
In undisciplined formation, ragged,
On the surge of the water, carried
From the stones of the pillars
That carry the Rhine bridge aloft,
In triumph across the conquered span.

These stones of the pillars,
Tied together with mortar,
They whisper to each other,
And the daughter they bear
"Remember, mighty Caesar,
"Thou art mortal, beware!"

[Jubal]

I love poems about bridges. I don't know why, but they always seem to be the very best of topics.