forgotten tales 2

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                    the heft and the edge                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     26/5/2017 wkj fantasy
 

 

 

 

 

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            VERSE                                          forgotten tales 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

     


      The Song of the Wasted Sheep

       

      And do I care?
      Nor do I care!

      Here I lie
      A wreck of bones,
      A wreck of life
      Upon the rocks,
             And do I care?
             Nor do I care;

      I fell too far
      To spring away
      As once I sprang
      When I was young,
             And do I care
             Nor do I care;

      I had a life
      Among these hills,
      They take my life
      Back to themselves,
             And do I care ,
             Nor do I care;
       
      I took my life
      From day to day,
      From weed to weed
      And turf to turf,
             Now do I care
             Nor do I care;

      One day I saw,
      My head upraised,
      A distant sea,
      Then dropped my head

      In search of sweetness
      Not adventure,
      In search of sure
      Beneath my feet,
             And do I care
             Nor do I care;

      I never wondered,
      Head upraised,
      To see the sky,
      And if I wandered

      Never saw
      Beyond the rocks,
      Beyond the turf
      Beneath my feet,
             Now do I care
             Nor do I care;

      But I did lamb
      And had a care
      One Springtime past,
      Or was it twice?

      Still, I did lamb
      And had a care
      To fill my time
      Some Springtime past,

                 Now do I care
                 Nor do I care.

      I once was shorn,
      Or was it twice?
      Or was it more?
      Some Summer past,
             And do I care
             Nor do I care;

      I once was cold,
      Or was it more
      That I was cold
      Some Winter past?
             And do I care
             Nor do I care;

      I once had fear,
      Or was it twice?
      Some Autumn past,
      And care was lost,

             Now do I care
             Nor do I care;

      Just once I fell
      And broke three legs
      And could not move
      And suffered crows,
             Yet do I care
             Nor do I care;

      Became a meal
      Among these hills
      To others who
      Now lie here still,
             And do I care
             Nor do I care;

      Yes: I was sheep
      And now I'm none,
      I lived a life
      And now I'm gone,
             And do I care
             Nor do I care;

      For I am bones
      And wisp of wool,
      A fern grows through my eye.

       

 

                                                                                                  

                                                                                                                        

         

         

        Burnham Beeches

         

        There were four of us:
        Him and him,
        And you and me,
        On a spree to escape the pack,
        On a skive to prove distinction,
        Cementing our unity.
        Braving the threat:
        Not knowing what was to come.

        We paired, two
        Preoccupied with the future,
        And two who talked of this
        And that, and nothing so
        Crucial.
        Two who played with
        Songs and remembered joys:
        You and me;
        Almost a courting couple
        We must have seemed;

        And me desperate for your touch,
        To hold your hand!
        And you?
        I never knew but guessed
        That you were so inclined,
        Erroneously as it turns out.
        Is your memory the same as mine?

        What was your sister told - she who giggled
        At my excusive concern -
        The day you had a bug:
        The day I nearly expired for lack
        Of your voice,
        And the day I nearly told you.

        Was this disaster averted?
        Or postponed?
        Or actually occurred?

         

     

     

Wilf Jones Poetry