by grimbeau



‘…there he was sat, bold as brass, plain as day,

stone deadpan serious, as if he was my judge.

I ask you!

Bulling on about ‘the great doings & dones’

sounding like a brat bragging about

the darning of the sacred

socks of Nemesis… ‘

In short, one may conclude,

a blow by blow account

of how wind gets out the bag:

why the turtle turns turtle,

and the attributes of the perfect carrot.

It was to his credit that he chose

to demean himself to

the baying hordedlavishers

that dwelt upon every word ,

as if, perhaps, they were his last,


that they would get a mention in the will,

despatches, or the mind of God,

his father,

who was in heaven-by-the sea.

‘…By gum, though, he sported lovely, kind, peepers

and one of those whimsical smiles

that always give you a tingle in the dingle.

Herdsman, craftsman…

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