How to Train a Dragon

‘Tied like a cur, damp-breath, from the egg

you whipped my tongue to whimper.

And still I stand and face you, chained to corners

and choked by diamond metal. What to do

when, baleful days, my skin flattens

onto  bone and muscles work and harden?

Every hour I walk and walk my tether.

Oh yes, you need to tame me, flophead, 

But I will never yield to your fat will,

My fate is to destroy in hot adventure

and your flab-hands can reach but know that soonest

they will burn!.

When your Hero came

to fetch me out, human, no doubt you thought

my training would be easy. Here I stand

and baleful wait. Bring on your taming, sweet-blood.

I long for pain and battle. To drink. Break me? Pah! 

You have no skill, no will, no strategy!

I pace, I wait. Know that your unbending need

for me to yield will lead you to a longing

of your death. There is no key. Remember,

beyond blinking eyes, damp as dawn,

I tell you truth. There is no mercy in my stringy heart’

Dr. Jekyll and Hyde’s Eulogy

He shoehorned his kids to indifferent careers.

He spooned little words into lady luck’s ears.

He fettled his tax return, filling a form,

and wetted the parched through the eye of a storm.

He lashed up a story to tell to the Boss.

He lavished a drink on that man on the Cross.

He braided the hair of his daughters and sons,

cried ‘Havoc’ in paradise, pulling a gun.

He swindled his brothers from plenty of cash

but sensed that salvation was not by the lash.

Utopia called him and, turning away,

he painted his life just a pixel a day

and threw fire and brimstone to get his own way.

Old men should be explorers (Eliot)

Look up, look up, the sun is out;

an Autumn morning lightens.

The duvet’s warm a pillow soft

but birds are busy - piping.

Who cares how come a new sun burns;

sick of lectures, sick of dreams

I put two feet in humble shoes

and leave you to your sleep.

 

Across a moor,

giggling stream,

a lifting fell,

one step more,

listen, breathe,

time - our ticking time - will tell.

The Anti-Misogynistic Misogynist

Women are the weaker sex

so don’t try to convince me

it’s part of a man’s job to listen

because, when you take a good look,

women talk too much

and

men are more intelligent

Also, it’s a falsehood to claim that

men and women are creative together

meaning that

both sexes are equal - with lots to offer each other

but it’s actually down to a simple truth:

men are stronger

and that

Women

can only create an illusion of having more power than

Big Men

it’s impossible for the two sexes to cooperate

and you’ll never convince me that

Men and Women are equal.

NOW READ EACH LINE FROM THE BOTTOM UP!

Clues

To sing

is such a little thing;

to shine

- across a spur of time.

And when I choose to shine and sing and laugh

I weave and warp a tapestry. Called life.

Friend,

our valleys jump from heather

and run their tiny way

apart - and then together

- towards the sand and spray.

Tenacious,

gracious.

hitting rocks,

catching brooks.

The roaring sea

calls ‘be victorious

in your glorious

dancing path to me.’

Fisherman

Be back in Spring 1915 and head for the Dalesman in Sedbergh, North Yorkshire - nestling under green butresses. Drink 4 pints of  foaming bitter ale and munch on some old bread before setting off up a track into the ever-crouching, trackless Howgill mountains. All snow has gone. It’s a balmy evening, still as boulders, and, although you’re traveling light, that rucsac is heavy and beer sweats out of pores like the chuckling white stream crossing from your left. It gets dark; air cools and moistens. A wind rises so you climb into a bag, using your jumper as a pillow. A few hours later, smell sweet wet grass and see apparent green spears in front of your pointing nose. Pebbles shine and a spider wanders across a real-world near your face.  Stretch palms - there are many heavy steps to go before opening  time.

          Resurrect yourself again or, heaven help you, they’ll be right on your trail.