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Poetry
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| Olive | |
| By Reynaerde | ||||||||||||||||||||||
| 01 October 2008 | ||||||||||||||||||||||
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In fact, it's a lamb. But everyone already knows that. I will not rhyme, speak in time or indulge in verse iambic, elegy or set ode, quatrain or couplet rather my intentions are quite the reverse- Oh, bugger. Hold on, let me start again. I will not rhyme I will not sing But rather leave words free as falling ink to swim or si- No, you bastard. What kind of sentence is that, anyway? "words free as falling ink" indeed Nonsense arbitrary metaphor -absurd- Laughter for a good joke, but this one isn't funny You see, this is why I never fit with the kin the crowd the choir who'd sing melodies laced with simile like this, like that, as in (careful) and there was I alight with indignant imagination to hope, to think- perhaps we needn't mince words with syrup and silk perhaps we could just say things as they are. No? The Choir The Crowd The Blank So loud they did not quite agree You heard me flee, no doubt tell of my footsteps from before They screamed I ran some mean men followed all badges, brows and pride Uniforms in navy blue Highlights all tan brown muskets cocked buttons gold- law for coin police for barter They didn't really want me dead just gone Away to the fringe where else? This land is nothing but edge and ash White ash Grey ash occasionally beige ash sweeping at my feet tread and trail; my tracks stretching back forever hills and cliffs and mountains high ...well, mountains medium what do you want from me? Everything looks flat And by the way, thanks for asking, it's been a while since I've eaten. There's a sheep on my tail don't know where it came from or why it follows me, I suppose 'cause I move and breathe and sometimes hum and, well, you know what they say about wandering rams... What's that? You don't Oh Well... neither do I Empty implications force of habit sorry. Anyway. The sheep. "Go away!" It's won't- it merely bleats (strange language, could be a poet) I'm tempted to cut it down, just for something to devour- but no poor thing, looks so thin and ragged fluffy fur all black and brown dewy eyes so big and round I won't kill it- I've too much guilt I'll wait till it starves to pick the body clean I have a baby knife somewhere down next to the dominoes held within the cavernous pockets of this little frock coat Olive in colour -like the name I don't have- a little battered -like the skin I hardly wear- I need to think positive draw a smile across my face Literally I'm from the Choir of Blank Verse we don't have expressions just words in their place but I draw mine on in black chalk and blue ink smile, never frown wish art was my gift one of these days I must buy rouge I'll wander forever in varying states of delirium hunger slash thirst intermittently answered fall in odd rivers wrestle dry thickets That sheep's still behind suppose I'm stuck with it A ram or a goat? Something else, maybe? I'd go back and check, no -Might scare it away. Even the Angels won't touch me they glare in pity eyes stretched over dunes from boxes and barges craters and crates gawp at the native Come look at me! I'm here till Tuesday! Bloody immigrants. Little else 'round here just myths and legends -and I'm trying to be credulous Oh look, rocks are falling at my feet down down down an apothecary of different darknesses below the cliff goes on forever and the other side is far beyond my sight this is the edge the brink (rushing water somewhere very far away) the valley Turn back and walk another shade or slip and take my chances down below? Long way down Long way back Hmm. The sheep's at my side... ...could cushion my fall... ....no, that would be cruel The dominoes my secret reserve I sit on the dirt stretch out and sigh the sun is still high in the- -atmospheric vista- I have time for a game or possibly two If I win I go on If I lose I go down No, I don't play against myself that's ludicrous, you fool I call over the sheep -lamb, goat, ram, fluffy-bouncy-thing- Say hello (Actually, for a starving wretch, it's inordinately round) tell it to sit down (it doesn't) teaching it the rules may take some time hey, I have forever and no purpose at all Madness? Not me. I'm just very, very sane that's the problem too sane to sing what's a verse to do?
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