Whacks and Wain
Endymion, forever youth –
but dreaming permits anything,
uncontrolled by conscious mind,
what secrets are unloosed, unseen?
The past alone seeps through the haze,
initial test of fear enclosed,
beneath the surface, delible,
rehearsed until the scare dispersed.
The Luna script, argentum wight,
at dead of night, the sliver slip,
a lining under lidded tights
shines silvered mirror, inward site.
The flesh requires recover, rest,
as does the mind, confess, wrest worst
that plagues our dominating past,
Selene, Zeus not far removed.
Why frequently the slate wiped clean –
dementia loss in one so young?
And when recall, acts, scenes are mixed,
ignoring unities, place, time.
The logic gone, though late, undressed,
plain queue is long, connection missed,
when crescent hangs in whacks or wain,
grow polish belt, fade cart bairn hay.
A shepherd, hunter, mountain king,
blown gale of natural minor scale,
an early frame of Dorian,
arresting, shunned, portraying self.
The myths tell truths of human traits,
tall storeys, explanations, based
at entry level, what appeals –
the seller faced, what lift to choose?
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church, has had pieces accepted by some twenty on-line poetry sites, including Nine Muses Poetry; and Gold Dust, The Seventh Quarry, The Dawntreader, Foxtrot Uniform Poetry Magazines, Vita Brevis Anthology ‘Pain & Renewal’ & Fly on the Wall Press ‘Identity’. https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/