Ye Caterpillar, 24 february 2012
Granite snowman
growanek growth of gold
lichen licks your old head -
your grass-skirt and blessed
pointed head to the sky.
Sweet birds of summer
come to swoop by you,
fly-past swiftly African aircraft
swallowing midges a-wing -
sing simple songs flung
over dungmellow flatfields -
summer a-come.
Licking breezes cool
wrapped around old stone spool,
then a stillness
in the cloverdotted pathcrossed field,
Stone Holy to Ancients
with Oceanic view,
glimpse the stars
Look! Old is new
Ye Caterpillar, 21 february 2012
Inveterate invertebrate
embrace a vertical rockface
facade of vetinary race
inverted, braced, a molecule's pace
mollycoddled molusc lusting
for the last bus,
in a flap
in a fuss
roaring full-born
dew-drop bull-horn
Tide swirling your
side twirling ripples
slithering in rivulets
letters ripped from catalogues
log-jams, lumbering word-jams,
verbose invertebrate
syllables coagulate
veering off a typeface
tentacles scrabbling for limp
pictorial hieroglyphs
glyphics mystic and molten cliffs
larva slips - hatching
in lunar eclipse
graphics grappled - coming to grips
inveterate invertebrate -
must it come to this?
Ye Caterpillar, 17 february 2012
Fresk kommolek ebrenn
glas pilenn hwyth a-ves
tarosvann-pallenn
ha treusnija-leurienn dhe an bran
glyb gwels ---
mar nebes gwyr kath vlewek slynka
yn krogenek surkot
Dhuchais
Ur scamallach speir
glas giobal seid chun shiul
taibhse-cumhdach
agus eitilt-cairpead do an preachan
fluich fear - bideach bolb tealtaigh
sa sliogan cota
My Home Land
Fresh cloudy heaven
blue/grey/green rags blow away
ghost-blanket
and flying-carpet for the crow
wet grass ---
as a little furry caterpillar creeps
in carapace overcoat
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Notes:
This poem is cast in Cornish, Irish and English. Apologies to the Kelts for the liberties I've taken with these ancient and noble tongues.
'Glas' in Cornish can mean 'blue', 'green' or 'grey'. I associate this word with the changing colours of the sea. Occasionaly houses in Cornwall are called 'Glas Mor' - Grey/blue/green sea.
Alot of Irish words have accent-marks over them, but not sure if my machine will do this, so you'll have to put them in yourself...
I've asked the 'Jynn-amontya' (engine-amounter, or computer) to do a Polish metaphrasis - it's in the hands of the 9 Muses of the INTERnational NETwork - I hope they do a good job - I have no way of checking!
Moja Ojczyzny
Swieze zachmurzenie nieba
niebieski / szary / zielony szmaty zdmuchnac
duch-koc
I latajacy dywan-za wrony
mokra trawa -
jako maly futrzany gasienica skrada
w plaszczu pancerza
Ye Caterpillar, 17 february 2012
Lorekeet Laureatte
You'll peck those words,
Motormouth motivatin'
Berries, cherries,
Pickin's rich in birds
Wingin' it, wordin' it,
Wearing whirring wings
Absurd i'n'it?
Spreadin' the word in it
Fly like a bird in it -
Land in the laurel,
singing
Lyre-Bird!
Now for your lyrics laurels
are conferred on you!
And subjects once taboo
You blew so open wide
Now the people see
inside of things
So spread those wings
Lauretta Poetta
Give those words
Some peacock feathers,
Aye?!
Ye Caterpillar, 6 february 2012
Those days with the wind swaying in the trees
those grey misty days of swirling leaves,
of tumbling autumn days falling into water -
the sea lapping around the legs of the pier
watching days, days curled up and crinkled...
do you remember that day, when
Evenings firelit - rain rattling on slate -
wind howlubub hubbing at the tiles above -
rain spatters the window's hollow green glass.
These days and those days - rose from above
the zenith soaring time's track.
Cool evening air between beech-tree groves
where leaves flutter down to fascinate the wanderer
nature's miniature moves a thrilling Muse to eye of joy
and woodsmoke's incense curling and diffusing....
Golden days, silver days of rain's glistening
tracery - moons, crunching paths a-wander
through furlongs fresh, harvest globes aglow
rippling pewter mirror of mackerel scatter
newt-tracks - crinkling the zenith
Sandstone ruins rooked by clacking
crowbodies - beaks - feathers blueblack
and beaks that clack - clutching claws cold
days of rooks a-flight in fluttering glassy nights
and dew-drenched hedgerows of bramble by
the gypsy's canvas hut.
Days on the move, horses shunting at the
collar, hooves a-clatter, sparking on roads
of night - past bramble miles and brackens
braking hills adrift with pink clouds glowing
slows in the hedge, cobwebs, moss and sedge
Faded brown photographs of days
in dreamy sunlight - kept in mahogany box
monoplanes whir, their wires taught, strings of
improbable Chinese guitars of the Butterfuly
brand - sealed with ambergreise - turquoise -
wax flocks in flux of beeswax bucks -
days like these flood by in flocks.
Ye Caterpillar, 5 february 2012
Detached, loosed, struck off on The Strand,
Dubstep Hubcap rolling and tumbling cross the land,
losing the race with th car what shedya,
spinning, turning, trundlin’ so graceful long th Strand,
scatterinya blessin’s all the way from Lhasa
past piers of fish, ashphalt avenues, iron-mongers,
ale-mongers, monks, friends – you Holy dish -
set alight the street you did,
set alight the Strand.
“Stuck behind a rubbish-collection-bus”
‘Don’t you mean a dustcart?’
Trash wagon, a flash flagon of flim-flam filth -
OVERTOOK the hubcap,
gazed directly into the Heart of the whirling Blessing Deity.
Dubstep hubcap of spinning spontaneity
Ye Caterpillar, 5 february 2012
Mallow the fleecy slumberquilt of owl-down folds
as glinting obsidian chips shatter to steel picks
glycerine meniscus slithers, slips gelatinous quivers
on dusty towels of blotting sloe-deserts at closing time
Dazzling wattage of solar brilliance
blinks dilating mole’s eye eclipsed by fogs obscuring dulling lids
cactus scimitars bristle at hedgehog’s scalpel point
while boulders rolling hills globular orbs around
Jocular punning jesters teasing comic clown jollities
lost money, brown envelopes soggy with stale rain
strange minotaur glaciers promise unsolved wonder
but late tax tellies brake cold tabloid price-rises
Egyptian fossil farthings recall yore grandfathers
now today’s internet chart-toppers skype new youth
spiders shock rejected by bully-thief’s cruelty
as warm coco-friendly cottages enjoy blue skies
Faulty computer fails, dull music rankles tired mind
awakening fresh glittering cool water splashes girls
shoes stepping path, kicking footballs as footsfall
shakehands fingers ring guitarists point to nailpolish
Formulaic wordhopper churns swilling unpop to critics
amusing the chucklers with bubbling playful verbdance
stay within your constructs if you will so continue thus
naught concerning consensus, joy rears again surprised
Ink-symbols convey conceptual synaptic lightning
the ever-curious gazer drinks from media’s swirling sea
the dualistic key-tapper hurls the project out
and life-life returns to paths familiar and mallow
Ye Caterpillar, 4 february 2012
Greenhornhood heavy hung however wholly
haloing halfling’s holy head. Thinking
through these thick thoughts thoroughly though therefore that’s thought’s
threnody thus through and through. Greenhorn
gores dirigible though, punctiliously and pitiably deflating the gasbag
envelope. Avidly attempting to avoid
responsibility though he attempts to involve the antelope in culpability. However heavy though hung the halo halflight
around Greenhornhood’s head.
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