As childhood died the old year
Made The Soldier reappear
The ash embowered night and day
As at the gate, she prayed
Wyman, am I worthy?
Speak your wordle to me
And drisk shrouded in its cloak
Holway, river, brook and oak
All souls under Orlam's reign
Made passage for the born again
So look behind, look before
At life knocking at death's door
And teake to your dark-haired Lord
Forever bleeding with The Word
So look before, look behind
Life and death all intertwined
And teake towards your dark-haired Lord
Forever bleeding with The Word
Autumn Term
Aish trees, gave their keys
Yet none will set me free
The woody nightshade drooped her beads
An' bade, come feed on these
Look behind yourself, red-eyed
'Gainst the wilder-mist to what you'll find
I ascend, three steps to hell
The school bus heaves up the hill
The sloey spears on Witches Mead
Cussed, come and lean on these
Look behind yourself, red-eyed
'Gainst the wilder-mist, tell me what you find
Lwonesome Tonight
Hark the greening of the eth
Curl-ed ferns yet to uncurl
Hark the zingen of the birds
Gurrel yearns yet to un-girl
Beech and aller, woak and birch
Biddle, bull-head, squirrel's drey
Willow, aspen, elder, larch
Soldier-King on Maundy day
In her satchel, Pepsi fizz
Peanut-and-banana sandwiches
For this man her shepherd is
Parts her bready-lips
Are you Elvis? Are you God?
Jesus sent to win my trust?
"Love me tender" are his words
As I have loved you, so you must...
Thrice she draws her lips to kiss
Mouthing for his mouth in vain
Thrice her lwonesome kisses miss
My love, will you come back again?
Seem An I
Bedraggled angels blethered
Across Eleven Acres
As belling from the bwoneyard
A-rangled round the archet
Her fingernails a-ripped
From hauling clay-filled fists
Out of the river's edges
For pots with happy voices
Conzum-ed with twanketen
That's only eased by scratching
Whisp-words slim as thistles
Or a sickly chicken's whistles
Seem an I a childhood
Of quartere'il and wormwood
Of not-friends running nowhere
Of vog a-veiling elsewhere
Till in the vaulted barn
Queer-lit by dummet zun
She knew herself a vessel
Fit for a different wordle
Where footsteps must be lwone
And barefoot upon stones
And the northwind's ever-host
Gives edges to the ghosts
Seem an I a childhood
Of quartere'il and wormwood
Of not-friends running nowhere
Of vog a-veiling elsewhere
Of mother's voice not-calling
Of corrugated iron
Of devil's birds and whiskey
Of chilver hogs and fleecy
And nuts I could not reapy
And nuts I could not reapy
The Nether-Edge
March wull sarch, Eapril wull try,
May u'll tell if you'll live or die.
Buds a-break and milchi seeps
Heady in the meadows
Chalky children on the steep
Baskets full of shadows
Gapmouth spins a rattle song
Air's an upturned ocean
Swift's an axe hurled in the gloam
Splits the Riddle open
Now it looks it almost zounds
Wordle zircles wider
With the silence upside down
Horse atop the rider
Quaterevil takes a wife:
Chilver meets her maker
As the grindstone turns the knife
O'er Eleven Acres
Femboys in the forest find
Figs of foul freedom
Where the old you left behind
Valls through nether-Eden
Some must watch, while some must sleep
So runs the wordle's way;
A not-girl zweal-ed at the stake
A-births the end of May
I Inside The Old Year Dying
Zun’s a feeble lamp
O’er leery land
Stares a’chat in code
Lark a meagre note
Drush repeats ’enself
Over Underwhelem
Croopied in the reames
Shepherd gurrel weaves
All Souls
A carnival, a flesh farewell
Hiessens rising from the dead
Wyman-Elvis! Calls our gurrel,
And counts the ash to where he bled:
At the first a crimson mist,
At the second sleeplessness
At the third a broken tryst,
At the fourth, lwonesomeness
Gawly in the sweethearts leaves
Gawly in the soldier’s tears
As the Riddle river grieves:
Wyman-Elvis disappears
Only in a scrid of flesh
Hooked upon the hart’s-tongue fern,
And only by her own gooseflesh
Knows she somewhen he’ll return
A Child's Question, August
Starling swarms will soon be lorn
Rooks tell stories 'cross the corn
Goocoo soon will 'es leave make
Swifts abandon autumn's ache
What says dunnick, drush or dove?
"Love Me Tender"? Tender love?
Hear the grinding wheel-bird grieve
Grief unknits my ravelled sleeve
Death of zummer, death of play
Waxing night and dwindling day
Help me dunnick, drush and dove
"Love Me Tender", tender love
Help me dunnick, drush and dove
"Love Me Tender", tender love
Help me dunnick, drush and dove
"Love Me Tender", tender love
I Inside The Old I Dying
The beech buds wait
The aish buds wait
The frogs and twoads in lagwood holes
And hedgehogs in their leafy ditch
All waiting for His kingdom
The eth waits
The dead brakes
Host the holly’s bloody beads
They are His crown of thorns
And He will rise again
Oh Wyman, Oh Wyman
Unray I for en
Slip from my childhood skin
I zing through the forest
I hover in the holway
And laugh into the leaves
Oh Wyman, Oh Wyman
Unray I for en
I laugh in the leaves
And merge to meesh
Just a charm in the woak
With the chalky children
Of evermore
August
Tree-tears vall
wordle-wide
All ’us cross o’er
t’other side
‘Vore I leave
someone please,
Love Me Tender
’neath the trees
Lorn of leaf,
twiddicks sigh
Child and season
mortify
A Child's Question, July
Hail the hedge as it grows
Ask the hedge all it knows
Tell me who has licked the twoad?
What is hidden ’neath the road?
Tell me quick as I was born
Whivering like a downy horn
Hail the hedge as it grows
Ask the hedge all it knows
Who’s inneath The Ooser-Rod?
Horny devil? Goaty God?
What is God in ethly guise?
One or mampus giant eyes?
Hail the hedge as it grows
Ask the hedge all it knows
Will the sweven’s golden keys
Hanging in the aishy trees
Open gawly geates to death
Who hoards ’es answers in the eth?
A Noiseless Noise
Absence
Cold moon comes down curdling
Through reddenin’ leaves,
Falling, falling
----
Know you every tear in these woods
Know you every place of good and not-good
’Tween sleep and wake and bellyache,
Each path unhealed and stumpied
Charkened embers. The end of summer
Reeve the river’s tongue of silver
Come away love and leave your wandering
----
Just a noiseless noise,
Just a gawly girl,
Just a bogus boy
Trapes the fields of feasen
To a chammer of not-sleeping
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