The First One - Parody Iris Wilkinson - The Last Ones Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

irst white horse of all
prancing past pale pink dawn,
before the first bulrush hall
rose up by the Nile's flood corn.
Unbridled coursed shadowfax,
unprinted by some 'Evening Star'.
Self-styled poet, last straw, lacks
the swish of a man's new car
over the ashphalt
far from Raupo huts.
As the living dead rose,
gibbering sleeplessly,
avoiding strong sunlight,
'And there shook the world's first paw
on the new world's shore,
while 'the rain it raineth every day' spluttered dank earth,
'with much to pour before
poor Man understanding finds.'

after Iris Wilkinson, The Last Ones

(4 December 1995)