Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 347 & Part 348

Today is Saturday, the 22nd of March 2025.

Winter is over, springtime is here, moaned one of the penguins, and we still cannot fly and don't know where to go.

Shhh, hoo-hooed the tawny owl, I have got a headache and I cannot hear my own thoughts.

That is not me, the penguin kept on complaining, that's those mosquitos deefening buzzing.

And so twenty-two mosquitos joined the fourteen caterpillars, the six snails, the twenty-six butterflies, the eighteen bats, the ten more chicks, the two chicks, the twenty-five chicks, the seventeen penguins, the nine little red birds and the one little tawny owl…

 

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"Over Bromford"

Am I the hawk? Am I the dove?
The vulture swooping down from above?
Am I the drone, circling high
Whirring tuneless, pie-eyed in the sky?

Angry gods of retribution
Driving hate without solution
City, home to all who came and ever will

Long lost tribes, invaders of old
Staking their claim to spiritual gold
Layers of antiquity buried below
Each with a sad tale to better not know

There is no time for meditation
Pause for thought or hesitation
Set in stone, firm pledges to fulfil
Angry gods of retribution
Driving hate without solution
City, home to all who came and ever will

Rocks upon rocks
Ashes on ashes
Bagels and lox
Warak dawali
Divisible loaves
Two fish from the Galilee
As friends sit and dine
Take water and wine

I walk the cobbled alleys nervously
Soldier girls, soldier boys stare at me
Down the line, out of time, switch alliance in my mind

I walk the cobbled alleys nervously
Soldier girls and soldier boys stare at me
Down the line, out of time, switch alliance in my mind

Am I the hawk? Am I the dove?
The vulture swooping down from above?
Am I the drone, circling high
Whirring tuneless, pie-eyed in the sky?

There is no time for meditation
Pause for thought or hesitation
Set in stone, firm pledges to fulfil
Angry gods of retribution
Driving hate without solution
City, home to all who came and ever will
But I never will

I'm not over Bromford
Bromford

"Bromford In Love"

Bromford in love
Writes 69 cantos
For melancholy brunettes and
Sad women

The breeze carries salt
And sipping milky broth
He cast his gaze towards the sea out
The Winnebago


As if the sea had bore her to be
An ideal woman
She came to him from the water like Venus
From a shell

Singing his name with all the sweetness
Of a mother
Leaving him breathless and then
Drowned

Bromford
Bromford
Bromford
Bromford