Introducing
Arthur L Wood
Tourist
Im moving through a village, in my dream,
A tourist in the world of frightful air.
I see the pageant wagon and the crowds;
Im wearing tie and tails -- people stare.
My father thinks it bliss, and I agree.
The centre of the square is for a grave;
I thought some ancient architect was here.
Within this endless shell I hear a wave.
Toward the shore we roam, as all avoid
The lure of death around the summer air.
Two giant fishes swim the giant sea,
Leaping in the skyway, everywhere.
Toward the chalky cliffs one fish repairs,
Forgetful of the poison on the land,
Then, part by part, the sea reveals her face,
And coaxes him to death upon the sand.
The ocean then becomes a host of love,
Mere thirty strokes away in sparkling sheen.
I leave this loving for another day,
And return to Bruegels village green.
Macavity the Cat Part II
Abandoned on the moor again, searching for a sign,
A tattered man approached me; he issued me a fine,
I told him I could never pay; he fixed upon my eye
And said, Youre gonna pay my son or else youre gonna die.
I handed him my shoes and my coppers in my coat
And pleaded, This is all I have. He said, I want your vote.
And then he led me onward to a polling station booth
And fixed me squarely in the eye and said, No vote, no tooth.
I quivered as I crossed his name and threw it in the hat;
The other candidate was named Macavity the Cat.
I stood out on the moor again, the devil by my side,
As round the bend a choir chants, Macavity has lied!
Macavity has lied, my Lord, Macavity has lied!
He promised me a baby boy! Said I was dignified!
Lynch him on a cross again and whittle every stone!
And so Macavity was killed, and we were left alone.
The votes were slowly counted; all two votes were cast.
They said, Its been a landslide! Macavity out at last!
The tattered man was drumming on his giant timpani
And slowly sung the sacred words, Everyone is free.
An Early Encounter with a Spirit
I was lost upon the mountain
I was long in the abyss
I looked too hard for beauty
Therefore, beauty I did miss.
A wind was growing wayward
The air a hazy light
When before my wild, wild eyes
A figure in mid-flight.
She was graceful there before me
A nymph of ancient lore
Of womans perfect nakedness
Fairy-white and pure.
This silvery nymph approached me
In a manner quite sublime
And led me to the forest
Where she slit the thread of time.
She was a pixie maiden
And her power was serene
Flowers dressed her crinkled hair
Her eyes of turquoise green.
She stared into my person
I was quivering in awe
She swirled, an ancient avatar
A mystery of yore.
The colours of the woodland
Melted in her glow
The source of her enchantment
I never thought to know.
We trickled on the stream side
We frolicked over dale
I knew my nymph wished to abide
With me, her human male.
She spoke, Dear man, entice me
Entice me in this Spring
Entice me in this memory
Entice me, my darling!
I know too much of magic
For a juvenile of time
Impossible it is to weave
My images in rhyme.
Mortal is the hand of love
Eternal is the glen
Infinity must supervise
The realms of wayward men.
Feel me in your morning
In the moth-hour of eve
And speak my final warning
And make them all believe.
The silver nymph is in me
I hold the Gods in awe
I have become her poet
A mystery of yore.
A Sonnet on Time
I almost hear the witching act of time
The life will be and go and soon shall die
All perturbations thought live in my rhyme
The mourning bed that bears the truthful by.
Alas the air smells green and feels all wet
The time is not I know. I feel the sense
Of morning dew and condensation sweat
Incense the day today with muddled tense.
Tomorrow shall the shadow of today
O'ercast and leap the woe from there to here
Through weather we will be as we be May
Inside the inner prison of our sphere.
And time will plod and mock and blow his horn
And man will fear the clock and be forlorn.
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