Wednesday, 24 October 2012

Come the revolution a poem inspired my American Poet

Come the Revolution

Sure our eyes now may
marvel at the sweet brickwork
of the dovecotes, the colombiers,
as they settle into tourist loveliness,

their geometries perfect,
square, octagonal, round, hexagonal,
all honeyed stone & beams
& cheerful red bricks & bricks glazed apple green,

roofs tiled red or silver grey,
so elegant their patterns,
your eye (& your camera)
will stroke their curves,

& every manoir has one,
for there could be no winter hunger for the nobs,
& so the ladders turned & turned around the hub
as hands were slid beneath soft purring

breasts for eggs, or to check
if they were ready for the table,
ready for the quick neck twist, the plucking,
the caul fat tucked around,

the roasting at the apple wood fire.
Each cote could shelter a thousand doves, even two,
fat on peasants’ cabbages, peasants
made by law to fill half their gardens with cabbages,

&  never scare away a master’s
sacred doves, cruel & implacable.
Only nomads without garden plots
could conjure up a dove

like a cheap magician’s accessory
as the symbol of peace & charm & hope,
for underneath their breath all peasants pray,
please, come the revolution, please.
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