Flabber stew

And then … upon the bimble boe
A swinkin’ sankle throws a toe
The rabbot jams and rins the flack
A gon, a biddle, in the sack.

The angry one, the Jibble Joe,
The funny one, the Dapper Doe,
Zap down the zwig and watch the flare
And laugh and laugh not one to spare.

Thy digst the glab, they say: you flin!
You munchy plastbed on a spin!
How come the flabber flew for five,
The babber stew blee batter zive?

How could the grumpous franny crench
Fall down the hub of the new bench!
And fill the swamp that lie therein
With flabber babber stew between?

You’re cropling, swabling in the back,
Your face is pratling, down, and flack…
He stops, he thinks, the Jibble Joe,
He’s calm, he jokes, the Dapper Doe.

Those eyes once closed are kind and wet,
The shame is gone, and no more fret.
Twas’ loud and bloody … then it flew,
To fill the swamp with flabber stew.

And then … upon the bimble boe
A swinkin’ sankle throws a toe
The rabbot jams and rins the flack
A gon, a biddle, in the sack.

(inspired by the Jabberwocky, by Lewis Caroll)

Mirror

Was checking out the mirror,
That other day …
Or checking in,
It doesn’t matter …
For once you do it as I say
Things cannot get more slim
Nor fatter.

Was checking out the mirror every time,
And then turned back as guilty of a crime.
Felt proud to mark a smile on the list,
And leave with it suspended on my fist.

A piece of chalk,
Set off to talk.
Cascade of sand,
In the wrong hand.

And dry …
Like a hot summer’s sky.

They tell me: smile, with a cheese,
Like this: two muscles, just a squeeze,
But how do you make those eyes to light
For all who come by to stop at the sight.

And then, to the mirror, I turn my back
The glass, calls for me, and I hear one crack,
I just want to look at the world all around,
The streets, and the markets, of people abound.

A smile on the run …
A child is now playing.
One toy, grab for fun!
Come old man, he’s saying.

He takes his car,
And rolls it on the sand.
I look bizarre,
He puts it in my hand.

Behind his smile, there grows a tiny tear,
I’m worried … What is wrong my dear?
His dad has died, was driving … boom and crash
Left him to play … alone … in dust and trash.

He takes his car,
And rolls it on the sand.
I look bizarre,
He puts it in my hand.

He asks me: drive!
Stay safe, don’t crash!
And please arrive,
Bring hope in trash!

What? Me? Old man?

A piece of chalk,
Set off to talk.
Cascade of sand,
In the wrong hand.

And dry …
Like a hot summer’s sky.

It starts to rain,
I’m filled with pain.
The sun comes back,
I hear glass crack.
It leaves me with a crown,
A rainbow upside down.

And then it hit me, sudden, loud and strong,
The reason why his father crashed:
Was checking out the mirror for too long…

Was checking out the mirror, the other day,
No point in going there again,
For the best mirror that I have,
Is looking back at me.
And I would give the freedom of the skies,
To find myself reflected in your eyes.

Manifesto of independence from the weather

Beyond the green of grass,
a sea of gray …
the grim of grave
where lay his great grandfather.

Dressed like a groom,
his beard full grown,
a gray sign of time past.

The church clock beats midnight,
in Greenwhich time,
and sounds the gravest hour.

On top,
a lost sheep is grazing in the grass,
thinking in dreams of green.
The groom below,
the gray between,
the grave on top,
forgotten …

It’s green or gray,
groom or grandfather,
to grow, to grave,
the sheepless grass,
or grazing fast.

Your day,
your choice,
your say,
your voice!