John Thorkild Ellison Poems

They killed it.
And ever afterwards
There was something dead inside of her,
A failure of feeling.
...

In the meadow the flowers tinkle like tin,
Birds snigger in the trees
'You don't belong! '
(Blood running down the wall)
...

The crow cries out in anger
As the senile branches scrape the sky
And past the trees a stranger
Picks his way through the dead land.
...

I lie awake,
While the wind howls in the gables
And mice creep furtively among the rafters.
...

Love's a poor shelter, whatever you say,
The cover flaps in the wind,
rain gets in the ceiling,
Yet here we come to kindle
...

A Day of days! Great cloud in a naked heaven!
Sing loud, glad Earth, a song of triumph!
Under the soil a pale shoot quickens,
A living root dispels December,
...

Dark, crippled Rose
Whose blighted spring
Which no-one chose
Caused suffering
...

Answering the tyranny of blood
And beckoned by lust
I have returned,
Recalling the fever in your arms
...

I'd like a bit
Of your sweaty love,

Your gasping, groaning sweaty love.
...

'Idleness is the Enemy of the Soul'
Said St. Benedict.
He was a godly man.
A hard day's graft makes a good disciple!
...