John Thorkild Ellison
Biography of John Thorkild Ellison
For biography, please see my poem 'The Failed Mystic'.
John Thorkild Ellison's Works:
'Shadowy Flowers of Orcus' volume of poems privately published in limited edition by Newcastle Bookshop at Haltwhistle. Also, similarly, a thin volume called 'Poetry Kills'. And in 2009, a new volume entitled ' A Bit of a Larkin'. In 2011, 'Wendy Couldn't Cope' In 2012 'An Elegy for My Father'
John Thorkild Ellison Poems
Poetry Can Damage Your Health
The day my doctor died of smoking I bought myself a fat cigar - I realised he must be joking, His funeral was so bizarre:
Outside the surge of the wind, the wind in the trees, The rush of leaves, and the sighing in the pine-needles, Outside the sound of the sea-shore, distant, remembered, The waves breaking on the gray rocks, and the evening approaching,
</>Blond bicycles writhe in the swimming pools of dark professors. 'What rubbish! ' you say, but I've seen it myself: Blond bicycles writhe in the swimming pools
In spite of my pain, Inexplicable sweet strands of soured mist twist In the echelons of salt streams, The fist of kings is lost in the parting waves,
A Day In March
Through the window the still yard. A cat runs across and disappears through the slender doorway. What to do on a day like this? Such emptiness!
I wandered in a dream And heard bluebells chime by the water, Saw unicorns drink from the stream And heard wild, whirling elvish laughter.
You've finally made me realise Love's just a squirt between the thighs. I thought it was so much more!
A Confession (A Sexual Prose-Poem)
An Alien's Valentine
Come be my Valentine And make me dance with joy; I'll give you babies, one, two, three, A girl, an alien, and a boy.
'For Godsake Hold Your Tongue And Let Me...
Please be quiet, little friend, You're driving me right round the bend! I'm sick and tired of your whining voice, You're giving me no other choice
A War Hero's Lament
Don't fight for England anymore, Don't fight for the chaps at the corner store, Just go back home and close the door 'Cos England isn't England anymore.
When I was nearly round the bend I turned to you, I had a drink or two, I thought that you would help, False Friend!
Winter: Inside the embers glow in the grate While the garden quietly suffocates in snow.
Nursery Rhyme For Hitler
Sing a song of Hitler (Unless you'd rather die) , Five-and-twenty Nazis Baked in a pie;
Your endless aching prayers
In the middle of the night
To the unseen God
Bring no peace to your heart
And no respite
To a spirit sickened with grief;
The day comes round the same,
The streets, the shops, the glaring light,
People in the day-centre, mouthing empty words,