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...
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
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...
This post has in a sense been handed to me by two or three responses to my post On not getting it. In the course of discussing how a reade...
Wednesday, 27 June 2012
Shadow of evil
Always the baddy of the piece.
the playground terrorist,
a natural stereotype: cast eye,
slight twist to mouth, as big
as any two boys on the block.
He infamously lit the altar
candles in the Parish Church,
then laid them down
against the curtains there,
and watched the fire brigade
arrive to do their work.
Shadow of the evil one
our teacher said - he being
always troublesome in class.
I can't remember what occasioned it -
no doubt he'd thrown his ample
weight around again. She made
him crouch down on the floor
beneath her desk - difficult
for one so copious of flesh - and when
she'd prod him with her foot or taunt
he had to bark. Convincingly,
she said. Dog like - or he'd know what!
Slowly, the taunts took shape
inside my head. They had a point -
a starting point, if nothing else.
His misdemeanours were not it.
His father was a local constable:
that's where the trouble seemed
to lie. She had a problem where
his father was concerned - an issue
with him being what he was. Police!
And Boyo Brannagan, as he was called,
was made to suffer for it. Constantly.
This represents #11 in my Suburban Village Series, it was not due to appear until Monday. However, I have brought it forward to link it with our friends at http://www.magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/ who have supplied the following image.