dimanche 14 septembre 2008

Poems and novels

Seagulls by Dobbin

Seagulls too, follow my tiller,
Above the naked, bleeding earth,
Ochre rich the soil is open, needing,
Seeds to fill the hollow ground.

Come and see the seagulls,
Come and see them overhead,
Watch the seagulls towards my tiller,
See the bounty of the earth.
We who wait and wonder why,
Stop the seagulls swooping seawards,
Bury the bleeding battered soil beneath.

And, all is always, angry,
Seagulls never help you lift the load.

Seagulls too, follow my tiller,
See the seagulls circling, swooping,
Whilst the plough breaks the icy earth,
As a ship through icy seas,
The frost it hangs onto the iron bows,
Behind me are the Herring gulls.

Seagulls, too follow my farrow,
Feeding off the torrid soil,
All about me there are seagulls,
Circling o’er the ochre earth.
Come and see the seagulls circling,
Come and watch the Herring gulls,
The earth is open, bleeding, naked
Offering up its daily bread.

Come, and see the ploughman pushing.
Come, and watch the beads of sweat.
Watch whilst every aching sinew.
Watch whilst every bead of sweat
See the droplets and their sorrow,
See the windows they reflect,
Watch whist every aching sinew,
Pulls the plough o’er the stony ground.

The sky is crimson, azure in beauty,
Horizon red, and apex blue
Nadir, still the naked soil,
Flocking, still the starving seagulls
We who try will fall and fail.
Feeding seagulls with our flesh.
Never shaking off the seagulls,
Just serving to sustain them instead.

Seagulls too, follow my furrow
Overhead the naked Earth
Laid bare bleeding, opened,
The seed-drill trenches linear and all too narrow,
All around the pastures girth,
Sea the seagulls and their tokens,
See the seagulls and the sea.

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