Journey To The Sheep

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Journey To The Sheep

Familiarity. A beginning. So what, that my boots are here. Sparkled shaft lambs leaf runners and climbers walk path of The Brute vertebrae snaking horizon. The sun still. Beautiful. Track of the track. Quiet green gone The Brute. Spaces. Motorways between trees. My friend pylon touching sky unthreatened. Where The Brute foxgloves sprung irridescent pools alive. Missed the purple parade. Dry raining leaves. Pee soup cress overgrowth black bubbles spawn. Pop. A bubble not toads, ancients, sheep. Sheep don’t grow in ponds. But, if they did, millions stark oily tranquil cress touched blackberries lost to fluid. Where the world is. Embankments. Sun raining needles. Didn’t look up. Not sheep. Man. Resigned, malshaven entrenched faded denim. V oaks snow of Snowden clouds of Rudry. Caged nothing bramble stakes. Chest. In the dark oranged velvet nipples bitten snug to trunk stalks climbing bark. Rubber not velvet. Moss covered rocks fallen glade home. I can see the bed blossom mushroom plates solar-ridged bulbous intertwine hawkclaw knobbled erruptions lazy branches. Where one begins undercarriage sunken. Nests elbows. Head of a gargoyle belly of a crusty hippopotamus lichen breasts thighs snouting orifice. The golden glade remember I loved you. Everything still. New stream in the stream. And, you all knew. Ferns grounds streams leaves. You know. No trace of sheep today. Raining over there. Purple downpours over purple coasts purple seas. Wind at back bridge sun-defined

Journey To The Sheep

Journey To The Sheep Part Two

Too cold for sheep today. Nice though. Crown of thorns old prickles. Hear them in distant pastures. Black strap on a shaft. Black gloved pointing finger on a branch. Oak seeds like ferns reverse of leaves. This is it. And the green ferns. The left ones are old. Strong ones taken. Remember strong green. Fallen forgotten ridiculous. Loss of innocence. And the big smile on a horse. Banks raised tight. Unburnt. Right-angled ferns raindrops robin. Where do they go in the heat. Damp pepper grass gloop glug. Wagtail light. Fossiling acorns stream running clear. Black skins stuck to the verge. Drenched. Eerie mist trees alive fresh viridians Shrill baby birds yellow raindrops Wriggling things underside exotic fungi. And, the leaking between not imposing structure. True to intentions. It will get done Without dilution. Acorn in pocket Birds and the sun still Feather waterspouts 50 Niagaras’ racing Where’s it all going. Excitable bubbles homage to the falls Velvet poison Frons puzzle Tired legs. Remember the sheep 1407 loved bread. In the spring her lamb came for bread wet warm snuffling. Race to the fence. Sheep following 1407 and the trusting. Gone. Circle and mist still. Angels in the sky just below clouds. Lights. Sea in the sky. Van shepard driving sheep adrift almost ran me over “you haven’t got a dog, have you love?”  “No”  “well, keep him on a lead if you have a dog coz he’s killing sheep” “I haven’t got a dog” “good, enjoy yourself” Brick Encampment Sacrificial slab. Trunks, branches graded Greened rope twisted round tree. Squares of wood with holes Iron John W.C complete with seat and toilet roll Dead sheep. Vertebrae six feet from skull. Right-angled platform. Blue rope A knife. No, not a knife Empty sheaf. Pissing down mushrooms sheep out. And me. Racing for shelter. Crows crouching shuffling bums. Limping blue marked speckled faces growing black sheep green black shit. Spiky gel top. Blue stained circle round shag. Loud birds warning. Millions of acorns water rushing end of black fruit taken eaten mouldy sodd. Greeny black bums vegetarians. Where has the old man with the old spaniel gone. Raindrops pit-pat puddle paper leaves volcanic reds skeleton fern. Silt burying. Fog horn. Where are the ships. Angel fell from tree sparkly mud. Heavy heart Dogs barking Birds Earth Sunlit glade. J engraved J 19 bark 84 Tall feathery greens touching blue Squish squelch deep mud lightest rain Wordless vista Be Strangest trees make themselves Leaves Falling Warmest day Tree taken The Earth with it/ tumorous load umbilical straddling/ down-pipe leading where. Banana mixes fern soil. God Cloudwings Butterfly Rays Sky moving at a pace Rain Sky connected to millenium centre This is the place I found a dead lamb no blood no sign. Blowing storm

Journey To The Sheep Part Two was commended in The Welsh Poetry Competition 2014


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