The Black Forest Poem by Merlin Isombard Ven Trout
The Black Forest
All roads lead to Hampshire
and the black forest looms ahead;
the vaulted canopies arch
and birds twitter like pensioners -
all is calm and serene at dusk.
As the moon rises I hold it
in my hands: cupping it softly
and drinking of its milky sweetness.
The eagle spreads its wings
and cries to the godess of the wood -
Hampshire, hampshire, hampshire!
Thursday, September 28, 2006
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4/24/2024 7:45:05 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Echoes of John Clare, je pense? Hampshire so feelingly personated! Kipling eat your imperialist fascist heart out! Let's go!