200th Post (here and now on Substack)

Mystic Ballad of Kings, Queens and Mythic Warriors.

1.

Untold and likely,

Likely to be untold, tale of many seasons,

Old as that creek which winds up the sunken, brackish valley.

Dallying, with no tarrying at the cheeky smiled Border,

Oft and far-flung,

Rinsed with all token, oaken sadness

Of the pregnant silence holding scene.

2.

Lone beast, born alone, out into the world

Of horn-rimmed triumph, hallowed call

To bound and crest, a fairy quest to

At behest, the mirror beckons - it's all in

Surprise, round the corner with a fright,

Moon's beck and call.

3.

Ice of ever, ancient rock spire

Fortress of ancient, vengeful stone,

A pair of Eights, thrown across the table

The ways of green man forgotten; the

transit documents, lost in the frozen, fire-y thicket,

Borne aloft on hands of stone,

Caught flint between the teeth, creeping

The dale with all (around) putrid, hale

And with the cotton order, a pitstop clops

The massive and mesmeric, clocks left

Broken, unlooked on antique shop floor.

And stops, between hook nosed, spice-ridden

Scream

4.

Dreary on the sunken coast, long look

And loud boast, ratchet turning, red with

Clink, we honour the head-land, and

Quaff the drink, ready

As ever, saw toothed, and barrel chipped

Buried hand in black marsh, hoping to never

See that limb again;

Wee sproggins and beached laughter, a terrible breach (cat A), and the soaring Frost

Of a new day - air crisp with malice and

Promise..

5.

Hughes on the treeline, hugged in fact

As nostrils flare with soot and gravel, n

It's all bent beneath the boot.

Rakish beard, and waspish laughter

Hurried with barefaced scurry across

Broken border, a tall Wall to

Encounter, like a bold bounder, seared

From all the ivory heat, furtive goes with

Feet on the peat.

Matched in madness, by dreaming darkness

Of scab and ruin and emotional times,

A door closing on the world left behind,

6.

Headfirst and barefoot, or feet first

With a headdress on,

It all starts to seem familiar, on.the. perimeter.

There was a time, where we went anyway

Charge did not rule, ions in breast and beating chest,

Only to enliven the spool.

Tired and last, tired at last, and fed corn

In the basement, as the attires drip dry -

Human form a manifest miracle, glazed

As Odin in oak to round the pinnacle,

Plunge into depth.that.can’t hold on

With miraculous look at the the titanic

Grandeur, a seismic event occurs, a

Monument crumbles, massive trouble?

The Moment roars

7.

Yin to a Yang, zinc a consideration, flock

Of birds or bombers, flying in formation,

Dust in the dreamstories, pages flecked

And a coast that fights back rough:

Goose and shag, thrift of spend-eagle

It all clusters round the family beagle,

A hollowed name, a cavern in the earth,

Aperture to Otherworld - under a great

Weight breaking.

Lost forever, and gone together, a scurry

And burst to a finish line, blurred out, vague.

Yet as marchers in the Hague, a cry off

Caught and found, and eye squint -

Evil always has its eye, on the holy and the

Just -

In time for the 5 o'clock news, birth and

Bedded, thrown through the ooze as a ruse

Majesty of high hill, and simple earthen

Treasures, a pleasure at last to gain

Ground that was never lost,

Tales of frost, distant clammy screams,

‘surrender to cold’, longing a steed,

Bed blackish, and bracken still, only the

Season to claim quick- claim kill.

Still at the border, simple green hill, a

March to the great green beyond, foolish

Smile, quick, cheap/ish, thrill.

A more

Cynical man

Would have

Taken the

Deal…