PHILIP DODD

PHILIP DODD

AFTER THE ASTEROID ACCIDENT

After the asteroid accident,

the dinosaurs were no more.

It happened sixty five million years ago,

the scientists are sure.

Dinosaurs live on in Hollywood,

animated on the screen.

Museums display their skeletons,

picture how their age had been.

Schoolboys play with their dinosaur toys.

They know the names of each kind.

By freak fault and cataclysmic chance

evolved our finite human mind.

That was some accident,

sixty five million years ago,

when an asteroid hit planet Earth,

off the coast of Mexico.

To live on Earth is strange.

It really is quite queer.

Don't lose your sense of wonder.

Be happy that you're here.

DINT IN THE FLINT

O ye bins and badges, herons and badgers,

ye throstle throated thistle thorn tub tenders,

ye clapped cloud cymbal tinkle tappers,

hear ye of the knight in the green shadowed wood,

at rest from the quest of the quibbler,

his head on a mound asleep to trickling water sound,

sheltered by his first star of summer shield.

Ye blue sky wind blown wing flyers,

awaken and wash my youth eye in my wise age,

let me follow a leaf through legend's rural page

to embark on a rowan stage.

And ye that walk but cannot be heard,

talk on a higher pitch than bird,

let me sense you are there in some far off dell,

let me sway secure inside your chrome city bell.

O ye wind jammers on the wet pyjama seas.

O ye pelican bills on the pecked pirate parrot trees,

let me fetch the berry baskets back

from the last black berry picking outing

when there was pleasure in the smile,

joy in the shouting.

O ye sparrows and finches

that chirp in my backyard near

take me back to then to be clearly here.

O ye attic critics, basement bards,

O ye walrus whiskered wine merchant

watching Wagon Train on Wednesday

when the weather forecast is due.

Better wrap it up while the vintage

tastes fine as any antique brew.

Ye that are finished with perfection

detect a dint in the flint that no one knew.

The birds have gone from my garden

as if vacuumed from the air.

I pledge my heart will not harden,

still a child bare foot on the stair.

Harper In The Hall

Silence in court. All stand for the judge.

All present are on trial.

Let the judgement begin,

the cleansing of crime,

the balancing of sin.

At first I attended to the words.

Distracted by windows and walls,

though willingly left behind,

I still heard the culprit calls.

I was a harper in the hall.

The king bid me play after the feast.

Of his servants I was not that high

nor was I among the least.

The sheep upon the mountainside,

startled by a hyena's howl.

They never ceased to make me smile,

be the weather fair or foul.

Unless my foe stands on the plain,

points his sword at me alone,

I cannot pull back my catapult,

I cannot aim my stone.

Silence. Silence in court.

The verdict has been passed.

Alert again, I shed my dream.

Allowed to go outside,

I joined the others in the empty dark,

pleased to see the jewel lamps gleam.

PHILIP DODD