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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 )

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The Trick

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.

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The Hizzermine

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.

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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.

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The Tide

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.

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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.

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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.

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The Visitor

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

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The Knot

There is a knot

Tied in a rope

The knot is doubt

The rope is hope