Wednesday 25 July 2012

Gardening


Destroy the plants. Lay waste to all that’s green:
each vicious, thorny branch; each overgrown,
ambitious, overblown and too-tall nettle;
the scratching, scraping, stinging, silent army
of pestilential chaos; terrorize
the undergrowth with garden fork and rake;
wield secateurs in safely leathered hands;
annihilate the deadened stump which waits
to trip; and halt this garden’s never-ending,
incessant, slow, perpetual growth. Complete
this pastoral devastation, until all
that’s left is pinned-back, black plastic, concealing
the surface: brown, uneven, halted, still. 

Wednesday 11 July 2012

The Bear with the Musical Face


Beyond the triangular telephone tree,
At the edge of the land where the skies roam free,
   Where the hat birds sing in French,
And the sleepy flowers dream,
As they drink their tea from a lemonade stream,
   Whilst hiding their feet in a cranberry trench,
By an almost-rainbow’s beam…

Throughout this lost enchanted place,
There walked a Bear with a Musical Face.
   Two eyes of E flat minor,
Eight notes which stretched from ear-to-ear,
Which played, once a day, for those who might hear,
   A tune as frail as china,
Which could make a stone shed a tear.

The Musical Bear had a beard made of strings,
From violins, guitars, and triangle ‘tings’.
   His eyebrows both were flumpets,
And he played his tune on a wordless flute
(For words were never his strongest suit);
   It hung from his forehead’s trumpets,
And it whistled a magical “Toot!”

But the Bear wanted lyrics to go with his song,
Without them he thought that the tune sounded wrong.
He took up a pen and he wrote down some words,
Which he showed to some two-faced and fabulist birds.
“Bravo!” they all smirked, as they clapped, and clapped hard,
As if he was some kind of Genius Bard,
“The words what you’ve writed be ever so smart;
They bypass the brain and go straight to the heart!”

Emboldened by all of this false acclamation,
The Bear sang his song as a grand celebration:
“O! Sing with me! Sing FA-la-la-la!
   Sing LA-la-la-la!
And OO-la-la-la!
   And you mustn’t forget to sing TRA-la-la-la!”
Sang the Bear as he played on his Magical Flute,
(For words were never his strongest suit).
  
And all of the creatures from near and far,
Followed the Bear as he sang, “Tra-la-la!
Two nautical chickens, a squadron of geese,
A squawking baboon and a not-yet-dead fleece,
Two toe-tapping tapirs, a wallaby’s whelp,
Four sharks, and a woodpecker covered in kelp,
An ant from Alaska, a dolphin from Mars,
Some devious mice who enjoyed stealing cars,
A hare, seven piglets, a horse, and a skunk,
And an unwashed red panda who looked like a punk;
All of them heard, as they followed along,
The Bear with the Musical Face sing his song:
“O! Sing with me! Sing FA-la-la-la!
   Sing LA-la-la-la!
And OO-la-la-la!
   And you mustn’t forget to sing TRA-la-la-la!”
Sang the Bear as he played on his Magical Flute,
(For words were never his strongest suit).

Then the Bear with the Musical Face sat down,
As his flumpetty eyebrows knitted a frown,
For he’d tried to find words to go with his flute,
(But words were never his strongest suit).
He ended up sitting there, staring; quite mute.
“Fa-la…” he began, to the notes of his song.
“Fa-la?” he thought, “That’s surely quite wrong.
“I cannot write words,” he thought, “though I’ve tried.”
And he sat and he cried and he cried and he cried.

But as he sat down crying musical tears,
A musical sound reached his musical ears:
“O! Sing with us! Sing FA-la-la-la!
   Sing LA-la-la-la!
And OO-la-la-la!
   And you mustn’t forget to sing TRA-la-la-la!”
Sang the animals all, to the hills and the sky,
For none could bear to hear the Bear cry*

“O! Sing with us!” they sang as they danced,
“Oh! Sing Fa-la-la!” and the animals pranced,
They hopped and they jumped and they leapt and they sprang,
And they sang and they sang and they sang! and they SANG!!!

“We’ll make up the words as we sing sing-along,”
All the animals sang to the notes of his song.
“We’ll sing of the land where the skies roam free,
And the Fluffalumps nest in the marmalade tree,
   Where the frangible aardvarks wait,
While the paradox moondogs bark,
In time to a garrulous quark,
   And all that you hear is ignored by Fate,
And stars are on hand to light up the dark,
Whenever it gets too late.”

And the Bear jumped up and he played along,
To the magical words which went with his song;
And the animals sang as he played on his flute,
(For words were the animals’ strongest suit):
“Beyond the triangular telephone tree,
At the edge of the land where the skies roam free,
There walks a Bear with a Musical Face,
And you’ll hear him if only you come to this place.”
Like a heavenly choir, the animals trilled,
And the Bear with the Musical Face was thrilled.
“What joy,” they all sang, “to live in this place
And sing with the Bear with the Musical Face.”


(*It sounded like Schoenberg, if you’re wondering why)