I wake at five o’ clock
every morning this week
with no one else in the house
and now remember Sunday dinner,
slow eating like Arthur’s knights:
Andrew, Merlin, holding court.
He knows the names of days,
months, even seasons, but
has no time for clocks
when he sees a throng
of mates around a table
and nudges them into song.
He knows more than kings
that fortune has no era
finer than this moment;
that now it’s time to sit,
smile and clap in time:
urging that humans unite.
Another great poem John, enjoyed all of the latest.
ReplyDeleteRegards,
A.J.Johnson
Thanks - you help me keep up the effort!!
ReplyDeleteI've always enjoyed Arthurian literature, so I had to come and read this poem. Excellent work, John.
ReplyDeleteUnique poem!
ReplyDeleteAdding a touch of nobility and legend. Very nice John.
ReplyDeleteAmazing poem. I found you on twitter. I love King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, you make a connection like Mark Twain between now and Middle Ages. I love how you make it jovial like a Sunday Family Dinner.
ReplyDeletegreat poem. such nice alliterations and extended metaphor and all that jazz. Love it! Oh, and btw, I, too, found you on twitter (I'm @PoeticErotica). I'd love to talk poetry and whatever's clever sometime. :)
ReplyDeleteBravo !
ReplyDeleteHehe each one is better than the last. Cant wait to read through all of your material John!! Test the Rules!!
ReplyDeleteLove this poem. Sunday music. 💕
ReplyDeletewww.reverbnation.com/chikispirit 🎶