The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
I have been struggling again of late to keep up with my visiting and commenting etc. The latest inroads into the time available for the keyb...
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
Wednesday, 14 March 2012
And Now A Russian Secret Weapon*
I have submitted this to dVerse Poets' Open Link.
With the Cold War at its height,
my Gran became convinced
that the Russians had a secret weapon
primed to use on us and undetectable.
It made you mix your sentences -
or at least transpose their ends.
Russian agents made it
on the bus to Wimbledon
or they cycled round Big Ben.
Released into the atmosphere,
it played The National Anthem -
in a new arrangement
by Rachmaninov -
fifteen times a day.
Her brother said he's seen it used
sometime in World War II -
though everyone had been screwed up
about the German weapons then -
to install some broken windows
in a derelict church hall.
Such tales were rife.
Her neighbours told her many
about weapons by the score,
but this one really got to her
and whispered things in Russian
that she wouldn't tell a soul.
My Granddad called it rubbish,
said she shouldn't say such things,
it was just a load of
firewood that he'd chopped the night before.
*compare with German secret weapon here