Sunday, November 15, 2009

Two Poems by Joss Deane

Whistling Wind
(The Track)

Fifteen or so demons, dictating my life
Existence to me is a flicker on the wind.
My feet march forward, never ever nary
Yet my past is anchor to my mind.

The champions were chosen, seemingly picked by fate
It seems my life has been a farcical joke.
I can feel my heart, ever chained by fear
Contain the strength to shatter this life's yoke.

Alone amongst the sirens, tempesting my ears
With familiar promises to grant me truth.
The water buoying, the ever present voice
Of antique knowledge, Isaac, Job and Ruth.

Could this all be ignored, can I live without?
Am I more a ghost of Athens than a man?
Cynicism and irony, I stood ever against
But it cannot continue if the world won't give a damn.

So I mutely wander, both in life and dream,
Watching Hell rise and force creation back.
The wind whistles, the earthy Gods collapse
And evermore I walk this lonely track


Our fields

The sheep bray, full of fear
I offer grass, met with wariness
Following them, notice the tractor
Obscene, the thought of ownership
Of that which i hold most dear

Land not bound by petty law
Individual unto nature
Surely man, not audacious is,
Couldn't have claimed dear Gaia's floor?

The turds of creatures, driven through
By whip or tongue of man? Can't tell
Disgusts my heart as well as mind.
Arcadia rent by farmer's plow

She whispers quick, fidelity intact
The fields primordial will always be
This Arcadia remains untouched
Her old secrets her marriage pact

Their ancient roads and silent spots
Promote good nature's lofty state
Her nooks and crannies her own to share
Our fields and ferns her natal cots

© copyright 2009 by Joss Deane. Joss, 15 years old, is the grandson of Suzanne Staniforth.

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