New poem by Andrew Darlington “She Bringeth Good Tiding, She Telleth No Lies”

photo from unsplash.com

She Bringeth Good Tiding, She Telleth No Lies

I cage a silver cuckoo in my bedroom
and release it into moonlight every night,
it gathers gifts for me upon its return,
Monday, a straw plucked from sleeping grain,
Tuesday, an emerald eye from an orphaned doll,
Wednesday, the skewered brain of a warted toad,
Thursday, the scent of pomegranate on a single seed,
Friday, the lock of a child’s golden hair drawn from
a faded photograph of myself as a four-year-old,
for it knows I have ink stains on my heart,
Saturday, the ruby ring my mother purchased from
a Whitefriargate antiques and curios emporium
pretending it to be a gift from a secret lover,
and on Sunday it brings the silver key
to release me from my own cage

Bio/Info: Check out my website ‘EIGHT MILES HIGHER’ – ‘The Blogspot for People Who Don’t Like Blogspots’ – latest postings include… ‘Tales Of Wonder’ the full detailed story of Britain’s First-Ever SF magazine, ‘The Walking Dead: The First Nine Seasons’, ‘Mick Farren: Sex And Drugs, SF And Rock ‘n’ Roll (‘Mona’ and Phaid The Gambler)’, Sly Stone Meets Doris Day, plus music interviews The Secret Life Of Fiat Lux, Floy Joy… From Sheffield, Hula: Old World, New Machines, More Electric Shadows… and more… All with archive photos, and more… monthly updates at andrewdarlington.blogspot.com