Friday, August 13, 2010

The First Thirteen


A.B.C. and on it goes;
Something everybody knows.
But when one's asked to choose thirteen,
One sits before ones blogging screen
Trying hard to choose the best,
Knowing one must spurn the rest!
There is just one thing to do.....
Chop the Alphabet in two!
A  for abbozzo; I'll do one
Of a caterpillar, just for fun.
B for bantling; hard to handle.
You'll find that it denotes a scandal!
C for calver; it's rather mean
To use this method in your cuisine!
D for dalton; at your leisure
Try to fathom this certain measure!
E for echard; gardeners toil
When they find it in the soil.
F for fanal; strike a light!
Are we going to be here all night!
G for gantry; you'll do fine
If you have one of these for wine.
H for hallux; by the way
One is not too far away.
I is ictus; lots of stress
But of what sort you're left  to guess.
J is janker: chop down a tree,
Then fashion something utility.
K is kalpis; come on! Think!
Useful if you want a drink.
L is lanate; chance your arm!
Say it's something from a farm!
And, finally M; mabsoot I am!
And I bet that you don't give a damn!
Did they make you cry or make you laugh?
Sometime I'll do the second half!
A preliminary sketch
B a bastard.
C  De-scale fish when alive.
D scale of atomic mass
E water not available to plants
F lighthouse or beacon
G shelf for bottles
H big toe
I stresses in poetry
J pole for transport
K water jar
L woolly
M happy



Trees, when they shed their leaves
Create their own memorials.
No chiselled platitudes:
'Died, September 1950:
Resurrected April 1951'
No heavy angelic carving,
No stiff unbending stone trees,
Lowering over the dear departed.
No representations of leaves
Falling eternally
Like tears.
But a tracery of denuded branches,
Stark against the winter sky;
Arms raised gracefully,
Pleading for the sun.

So it is, sometimes,
With gutted buildings.
They accidentally invent
More moving
Than any stone-smith could create.
The destruction of the Twin Towers
Called forth
Twisted metal
That was both elegant and archaic.
So it is with Brighton Pier.
Did I really walk its boards
When both of us were young?
Was there really colour, noise,
Funny hats, icecream,
Brighton Pier has attained
A grace in death
That it never revealed in life.
The flames purified it
And turned it into
A work of art.


Becca and I took Max to a Playground Cafe today because the wind was biting. You can imagine the noise!


Lo said...

How inventive and charming! Great fun

Serving Hugs on a Platter and Tears in a Teacup said...

I really like your stuff!!! :)