An orchid alone in the orchard
A cuckoo calls in the oakwood
I long for the nightingales return
Llwynypia
Rob Cullen reads his story, ‘Ernie Zobole and the Square’, in response to Zobole’s painting ‘Llwynypia’ (c1953). You can read Rob’s story on the website – https://artisttrails.wordpress.com/2016/04/27/ernie-zobole-and-the-square/
Lest we forget
Lest we forget
Farewell Davey!
Within the fire and out upon the sea
Crazy Man Michael was walking
He met with a raven with eyes black as coals
And shortly they were a-talking
Your future, your future, I would tell to you
Your future, you often have asked me
Your true love will die by your own right hand
And Crazy Man Michael will cursed be
Michael he ranted and Michael he raved
And beat at the four winds with his fists, oh
He laughed and he cried, he shouted and he swore
For his mad mind had trapped him with a kiss, oh
You speak with an evil, you speak with a hate
You speak for the devil that haunts me
For is she not the fairest in all the broad land?
Your sorcerer’s words are to taunt me
He took out his dagger of fire and of steel
And struck down the raven through the heart, oh
The bird fluttered long and the sky it did spin
And the cold earth did wonder and start, oh
Oh, where is the raven that I struck down dead
That here did lie on the ground, oh?
I see but my true love with a wound so red
Where her lover’s heart it did pound, oh
Crazy Man Michael, he wanders and walks
And talks to the night and the day, oh
But his eyes they are sane and his speech it is clear
And he longs to be far away, oh
Michael, he whistles the simplest of tunes
And asks of the wild woods their pardon
For his true love is flown into every flower grown
And he must be keeper of the garden
Read more: Fairport Convention – Crazy Man Michael Lyrics | MetroLyrics
I pay tribute again/East Coast Tribute (excerpt).
I pay tribute again/East Coast Tribute
Recalling Browne’s
For a Dancer
I’m not sure
what it is
about these days
that reminds
me about those times
on the East Coast
and of that Christmas
in 73.
Lets talk about poverty not austerity (excerpt)
I watched Joseph Beuys and his coyote
I didn’t get it. But I got Dusseldorf.
Do you know what I’m talking about?
A square that was never a square when it was a tram stop!
No answer
No answer.
I was awake sitting upright in darkness
Listening to the sound of spitting rain
hitting the skylights darkened pane
from the rhythm of my hearts racing
I knew that something had happened
that feeling in my gut of hopelessness
And I heard you say “Is it Tourette’s
The way you shout in your sleep”
And it was that waking time again
when nightmares and terrors reign
calling me from dreams so deep
It’s a kind of Russian roulette.
The dream felt as if it was real
as if it was really happening
as if I hadn’t been here before.
But it was the same time, same hour
that same real body feeling
sweating, heart beating. Real.
I was shouting out loud again
that noise echoing in my brain.
That noise that crunching sound.
That noise of steel being ground
brought me out of my sleep
Sweating, heart beating. Real.
Perfect Guiness Add
Waiting
You said we’d meet in the Packet
a bar that had a rough reputation
I wondered about that
as I ordered a Guiness.
You always kept me waiting
that was one of the things
one of many things
I liked about you.
The bar had fallen silent
I looked around and saw
the seagull on the top
of a broad brimmed straw hat.
You were six feet two
and stood head and shoulders
above the men lining the bar
all of them looking at you.
The sun glasses you wore
stared at me above
that wide white toothed grin
you said make that two pints.
I loved waiting for you.
