Walking with Jeanie
I wander with Jeanie along the wild way
where fields become cliffs that drop down to the bay.
With gulls riding thermals, a whispering sea,
the skylark sings love songs for Jeanie and me.
I whisper that love is sweet joy bound with sorrow,
be with me today and I’ll ask no tomorrow,
then gather a posy as evening comes creeping
to lay on the soil where my lovely is sleeping.
Taj Mahal
Taj Mahal is silent, blushing at the dawn,
thin veneer of beauty heralding the morn.
Scorned and mutilated, living with the hounds,
chattel of the bad men by the palace grounds.
Never ending evil meets them off a train.
Buy them in a village for a life of pain.
“Amputate! Infect them! Smash an arm or leg!
Make them our possession, only fit to beg.”
Taj Mahal is mystic, love song of a shah,
music of a river, echoing afar.
Gentle men and women, viewing Mogul’s stones,
fountains of compassion: “Show them broken bones.
Get the ragged army limping on parade,
begging bowls a-banging, injuries displayed.”
Symbol of submission, baby at her feet
hasn’t got a pillow, sacking for a sheet.
Screaming and hysterics, battle for the prize,
quelling ranting mother, blinding baby’s eyes.
Taj Mahal is awesome, shimmering at night.
Agra folk are sleeping, Milky Way glows bright.
Glorifying heaven, planets rove the skies.
Satan roams the shadows, mid the cripples’ cries.
