odd bless this grim


odd bless this grim ( a trueish story )

the dales are veils - the hills are still

the sun has paled beneath this grey

that here wassails & wails its will

from vaults above upon this fray

the rain is hail - the sleet is sheet

the clouds are shrouds of drunken dim

the gale exhales & quakes the wheat

no bird is heard within this brim

the quail has bailed - my quill has chilled

its ink has failed as curates pray

for gold & ale & sleep & pills

as trees sweat on & mad dogs stray

the nails are snails - the streams are streets

the cats are hounds - the wind has limbs

these days i crave - their taste is sweet

my frown they drown - god bless this grim


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s