Wojja Fink Poems

I stumble on poets whom I’ve not before read
With visions of mountains to climb in my head
Old mysteries to learn buried deep in my heart
Viewed from a mind we’re a long way apart
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June in Hythe.

Down in Hythe by the river side
Where the reeds are growing five feet wide
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Saw Dylan Thomas last night in a dream,
with a silver banjo and dancing queen.
Said, “ Hi Dylan how’s your luck”.
He said, “I’m leaving here fast in a supercharged truck,
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From the back cover of a book called
Wonders of Spiritual Unfoldment
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It’s waist high in the back garden
Full of pink bell like flowers
And the bees can’t keep away
Beautiful greens with huge leaves
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Man’s life is laid in the loom of time
To a pattern he does not see
While the weavers and the shuttles fly
Till the dawn of eternity
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Pushed in their buggies or prams
by mum power,
wrapped in their finest
autumn toggs
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In ignorance I stumble
From day to day
From age to age
In loneliness I wander
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I’ve got tombstones in my eyes
My tears they feel like gravel
I see death upon the streets
Of every road I travel
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We’re English through and through down to our bones
Gave birth to the Queen and the Rolling Stones
We’re English through and through and we like to be alone
And we eat roast beef straight off the bone
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