Posts Tagged ‘bucolic’


February 20, 2014


The Insipidity of Watercolours

October 13, 2010

I am troubled  by the sterility
Surrounding me in contrast
To the refined skies
Of your insipid watercolours
Dissonant and always perilous

Filled with colours that soften, that liquify
With a succession of vows I stride forth
In your world there is no being
Superior to the daisies
Or the spirit of sheep

Your sheep are omniscient, I sometimes think
Along with your hemlock and your heather
Peeping from cotton wool bodies
White as the sky
They conspire in dimwit disguises

Tasteless and colourless
No one hears them coming
Implacable as marble
Lucid and secluded
I carve patterns in their terrain

Murder On the Farm

May 13, 2010

Every Saturday
The Farmer’s wife
Takes a trip to town
On that big, red bus
The Farmer called it
‘That scarlet monstrosity’
Watching his wife embrace
The vulgarities
Of city life
A world she once inhabited

She returns
But the stench
Of the urbane,
Of the metropolis
Clings to her
Like stale sweat
Like the cow dung
That welds itself to her boots
Nothing the farmer does
Is ever good enough

Frugality abandoned
Fragility exposed
The old farmer
Murdered his wife
With gun, with knife,
With strangulation,
With blood-tipped axe
Just to ensure
That he had really
Finished her off

And this bucolic landscape
Is threatened no more

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