This is a poem I wrote on inspiration in the Manchester Art Gallery. I sat askance, arms akimbo, pondering on a wet, syrupy, rainy afternoon...
The body of a deer and the heart of
A dead lion clings to the wall like it
Does my imagination, immobile.
The twisted grimace summons up a mouse
Plucking a thorn from its predator's paw,
Devoured after its good deed is done.
Dirty paws on dusty desert,
Arise, arise and wake!
Do not let the Seer of your Land
Ravage your mighty soul.
As He who rose from Death's table
So canst thou raise thyself.
Do not permit man's weakening
Of such a noble beast.
I have seen you in your natural home,
I drank tea amongst your wives and children,
I proudly etched you in my memory.
I see the glare of my reflection
In your glass cage,
Reminding me that you were never there.
Never real.
Never more than imagination.
The body of a deer and the heart of
A dead lion clings to the wall like it
Does my imagination, immobile.
The twisted grimace summons up a mouse
Plucking a thorn from its predator's paw,
Devoured after its good deed is done.
Dirty paws on dusty desert,
Arise, arise and wake!
Do not let the Seer of your Land
Ravage your mighty soul.
As He who rose from Death's table
So canst thou raise thyself.
Do not permit man's weakening
Of such a noble beast.
I have seen you in your natural home,
I drank tea amongst your wives and children,
I proudly etched you in my memory.
I see the glare of my reflection
In your glass cage,
Reminding me that you were never there.
Never real.
Never more than imagination.
As this is the first post of the new year, the prize is even more splendiferous than ever before! The first correct entry will win a once in a life time trip around the world in 80 days, au stylings a of Phileas Fogg!
Whoever wins this prize must supply everything him/herself. I supply only the inspiration for the trip and nothing more ( courtesy of Jules Verne).
