Sunday, 1 November 2020

Jour de novembre


S'il me semble qu'il y ait peu
de ce qu'on appelle Dieu
dans le monde que je perçois,
je pense, je crois qu'au fond de moi
il reste du coeur mais pas de foi.
Les doctrines sont parfois comme un cheval de Troie
qu'on accepte sans trop se demander pourquoi.
Je suis, donc je peux m'élever de ce creux
avec les pieds sur terre et les yeux dans les cieux.
Mais trop souvent, hélas, je n'y vois que du bleu
et je me sens vieux,
surtout quand il pleut.

(lone.zone nilsburgh)



Sunday, 23 February 2020

Ailing on

As he ran out of lyrics,
he spiked a conker with toothpicks
and called the creature "Ayleón,
provider of inspiración".
But instead of furthering the arts,
he joined the ranks of other old farts
who pose and ponder at an empty desk
about things exceedingly grotesque.

(lone.zone nilsburgh)


Tuesday, 29 October 2019

Hammer and drill






Manic, sporadic,
year-long, brain-flattening noise
can make a neighbour choleric,
a quiet dog lose its poise.
When the walls keep vibrating
and the ground seems to quake,
your ears start pulsating,
your hands begin to shake.
As a shrill drill dementedly hisses and pierces,
backed up by a rumbling, thumping, roaring,
running on, resonant bass,
you find it hard to remember what peace is
until Sunday brings blissful silence and grace.

(lone.zone nilsburgh)

Saturday, 2 February 2019

Fish versus worm verses


If fish could talk, they might debate
and learn no longer to bite the bait,
but if they argued, puffed up and irate,
they'd still end up on a hungry man's plate.

If worms could speak, how would they relate
to their fellow-creatures in a twisted state?
Would they sound stoical, gentle and sedate
or would there be turbulence their lines would create?

(lone.zone nilsburgh)

Friday, 31 August 2018

Things political




Some people try to sway a nation
but they can't command respect,
as they lack consideration
for the lives their words affect.

Some strive to lead and rally followers
but are overtaken from the start
by swift allegiance borrowers
with visions far apart.

Some analyse and sound prophetic
but business does not care,
their warnings seem pathetic
when there are dividends to share.

But who am I to be so critical
when I like to shun all things political?

(lone.zone nilsburgh)


Sunday, 8 July 2018

Omnidirectional


A dog sat there observing
as they stood haphazardly,
silently preserving
a fleeting memory.
Passing, passed, returning,
a breeze among the leaves,
a dusty haze concerning
whatever one believes.
A one-time concrete presence
dispersed as chalky air,
no clear remaining evidence
of who had once been there.
Atoms to atoms, quark to quark,
water brings life and fish will walk.

(lone.zone nilsburgh)

Friday, 23 March 2018

Pebble



When she left, she left him a pebble,
a small, smoothly rounded stone;
she had never been one for gabble
and was smart without a phone.
He did not mind no words were spoken,
because words can be a pain,
instead he had this token,
something solid to retain.
Polished by seasons and weather,
it felt good to touch and hold, 
as if they were somehow still together
in infinity's timeless fold.
And so they had curbed the twists of fate
with a simple mineral aggregate.

(lone.zone nilsburgh)

Wednesday, 14 February 2018

Valentine




Close your eyes on Valentine's
if you happen to feel alone,
take your mind beyond the confines
of this planet of flesh and bone.
Looked upon from outer space
the Earth appears in a different light,
it does not seem so bad a place
this haven in the cosmic night.
There will be warmth, there will be spring,
children will play and birds will sing,
there will be flowers, there will be fruit,
there will be colours to change your mood.
Violets are pretty, daffodils too,
... meanwhile the dog has been chewing my shoe.

(lone.zone nilsburgh)

Wednesday, 31 January 2018

Wet




Maybe we ought to have webbed feet
to wade through that rainy winter street,
to splash across the soggy lawn
and paddle into the damp of dusk and dawn.

(lone.zone nilsburgh)


Sunday, 24 December 2017

Christmas



Let not Christmas drive you crackers,
it is just a winter's day,
though not for wallabies and bushwhackers
that live the antipodal way.

Christmas should be homely,
but often it's pretence,
too fake, too shopaholic,
too much that makes no sense.

What if Christmas were an island
under cloudless starlit skies,
a place and time all silent,
till baby Jesus cries?

(lone.zone nilsburgh)


Thursday, 2 November 2017

Rat and Cat


Original Picture by JC/MMEL (2014)


In the garden last night and the night before
a rummaging rat met a lurking cat;
alas, the rats are now no more
than carcasses inanimate,
the one tricked out of pleasure and toil
on ghostly Halloween,
the other one returned to soil
on All Saints' Day when graves are clean.

I therefore ponder on the second
on the meaning of All Souls
and why a beast's transcendence is reckoned
to be beyond God's goals.

What if the rat had not been a rat
and the cat was not a cat?

(lone.zone nilsburgh)



Original Picture by JC/MMEL (2014)





Tuesday, 3 October 2017

Snail





I recently tried, to no avail,
to slow down a forward moving snail;
each time I blocked its middle section
and gently pulled its house in the opposite direction
I felt a rather purposeful reaction
of it sticking to the base and of additional traction.
How unsuccessful I had finally been
could unmistakably be seen
from the linear, slimy trail
left behind the tiny traveller's tail.
Not being French, I suddenly became apologetic
towards this little escargot, which was so energetic,
and I therefore helped it onto a laurel leaf
and wondered if its life would be long or brief.
(lone.zone nilsburgh)


Monday, 11 September 2017

Whodunnit




I was absent-mindedly listening
to a vegetarian sausage 'crispening'
in tinfoil on the barbecue grill,
not sizzling, yet not entirely still,
when I suddenly heard a tapping,
then the sound of bird wings flapping
before something struck me on the head,
bouncing off against the garden shed.
The dropping was a walnut,
its shell still partly shut,
the culprit was a hungry rook
that had unwittingly hit the cook.
Never mind, I forgive you, bird,
but I'll keep your walnut for dessert.
(lone.zone nilsburgh)