Friday, 1 April 2011

The Bard

Pull up a Bard from the deep well of time:

he’ll upset a market stall – end to end –

face like an apple and eyeballs that swim

with a love for the sea, and song, and land.

Let’s pray he’ll unearth our divinities,

vibrate with truthfulness, word made flesh

and we’ll laugh at the Fool’s juggling throws;

troubadour, genie, granting a wish

but keep (under wrapping) your silences;

don’t let him question your deeper passion;

don’t let his eyeballs poke out your sadnesses,

panning for gold at the edge of the sun.

His weirdness is love - more heaven than hell

and a jester’s a sage and - so - all will be well.


  1. Delighted. This brought a smile. Most do.

    The bard used to visit me everyday at lunch in university. I know this because his notes and gifts were always signed, 'The Bard'. I now have my own personal bard. Occasionally we have lunch. I seem to be blessed when it comes to bards. Now if I had a penny for every blessed word...

  2. This is inspiring me to attempt a sonnet in earnest.