This is a fully illustrated collection of nine imaginative narrative poems. Although it takes a look at the darker aspects of human nature, it is a fun book that reads like a collection of fairytales. It opens with the fantastical claim that the origin of our shadow side lies firmly in the hands of fairies conscripted to please an unidentified demon. The second poem is a piece of political commentary on the fake news, spin and confusion of our current times. It invents a beast to explore how misinformation creates a world unto itself. Other poems are tales of greedy kings, evil queens, uninvited guests and a bullying raven (with a clear reference to Poe). But, in all these dark themes, it hopes to turn our view towards the contrasting light, though it leaves the control of this to the reader.
Nine Poems from our Shadow Side ( Opening Stanzas )
It was the night the faeries flew to town
Down distant hills, through hallowed grounds
Passed cliffs and groves ignored by time
Through forests vowed to hide the crime
Passed orchards who should surely tell
But not a leaf was dropped, nor apple fell
For trees keep secrets very well.
The Hizzermine rolled into town
With twists and turns and coiled round
Writhing like a serpent crushed in pain
Or in a spasm unexplained.
Its spastic dance is all a guise
Its every twist is its disguise
What shall you watch, what’s next to hear? It’s impossible to try to make it clear.
A Song for Kings
Confessions of a Raven
The Judgement of the Itch
I have of late lain unsettled
As if a down of prickly nettles
Lay beneath my dark distinguished feathers
Beneath my black foreboding feathers
The cloak I bore for harsh endeavors
To which I aim to get the better
Shimmering in mystery.
Something dark lay out of sight
More dark and silent than the night
Crept toward the shores of every sea
And bore with it a strange debris.
From beyond all realms we dare to claim
Gathered these cold and stark remains
And though they bear no means to tell
They hold the fears by which we dwell.
There was a bird, free as the air
Within her breast a song to share
Who sang o’er village, field and farm
Over city, fortress
Church and barn.
She sang for travelers of the land
Of foot and cart and caravan
And for those who travel by the seas
Pulled by the oar, pushed by the breeze.
a mouse on the moon
upon the surface of the moon
lived a mouse with a piece of cheese
no more precious could this be
dropped by an astronaut or so it seems.
along the edges of a crater
running endlessly each day
with the Earthrise up above him
hanging, haunting in display.
It Can't Be True
“It can’t be true!”
I heard a voice say
I turned quickly to look
She turned quickly away
And started to run
Down a long railroad track
I called after her
But she never looked back.
It was a TV show from years before
I sat half sleeping, the other half bored
When a tiny tap came to my door
So tiny as to be ignored
So tiny, but it came again
That but intention could explain
There was some will behind the tap
I rose, shaking off the half that napped
There is a knot
Tied in a rope
The knot is doubt
The rope is hope