Verse in My Purse
A Villonaud, with debts to György Faludy
The dance of defeat ̶─
I hang from the rope of wasted
years stretching back to my
childhood's radiant offer
as the pain of my throat's
contraction measures the weight
of seedling abilities that have
Our civilizations have sown new
of treating unwanted populations,
reasoned a seasoned son of
And he entreated his own: You’ll
you own and never forget it ̶─
hold up your head while you’ve got
Alarm clocks (tick-tock!) scorning
alarm calls trigger the terror
Locks, clocks, a paradox,
the dead commuter said,
even if they had spared me, I’ve
sold my life from nine to five...
But (tick-tock!) what did he get
for the price?
power of Money
After Francis Bacon
Many don’t know that money
must be, must be!
either a clever servant
or a cruel master.
That’s why many chase money,
(trust me, trust me!)
faster and faster and faster.
Power of Poetry
After Heinrich Heine
When I cried out my pain and pride
you yawned: Get lost you silly boy!
When I set out my soul in poetry
you raised your heart and sang with
Walk in Derbyshire
For Michael Riddall
Timeless landscape, not quite empty
Silent hilltops and whispering
treasure the tread of lightfooted
who pass here in their eternity,
impossibly chasing their soaring
to capture for ever in perfect lines
that ring them with magic. What
when a rhymecatcher walks with me.
For Maureen Weldon
You are a Viennese hexameter --
I’m a Parisian flea.
Let’s waltz! We have plenty in
although my own six feet are wee.
Among stern men of stone deprived
in the sky with birds and bygone
just seen on a plinth a marvellous
poet and teacher:
he was high on words and
If you have any comments on these poems, Thomas Land would be