Fights ahead

I came across a new word, Kuffarophobia.
This is the irrational hatred of non-Muslims by some Muslims.
Like all hate it has to be challenged and confronted and not appeased.
Sadly many leaders just do not think that way, until too late.
(And no, I do not hate the religions of others)

tempest

Fights ahead

Now who can debate with irrational hate
Discuss with old books from the past?
Alas, now too late it seems a dark fate,
So, we’re left here all sad and aghast.

We may feel lost, our fate, storm tossed
As we cope with the hatred and bile.
Through all the cost, we may seem, star-crossed;
The brave they stay true all the while.

While none may debate with irrational hate
Where madness possesses each mind.
Fate ever late will bring forth the Great,
Where life here had seemed so unkind.

We’ll turn and we’ll stand and face all at hand,
And drive back the hallowers of hate.
For we know that here, this is Our land,
Let the bigots of bile face their fate.

© Trevor Morgan, 28/5/2018

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Laura’s Starlight

The vile scandal of child rapes in Rotherham is a horror story.
One of the survivors has written a book about this and the murder of her sister, Laura, in a so-called, honour killing.
This song lyric was inspired by one paragraph in Sarah’s book.

SarahWilson

Laura’s Starlight

There’s a star in the night
High above all the spite
But the cause of great loss still remains.
The sun’s in the sky
And the song birds fly high
But a whole town is riven with pains.

Dark waters had hid
The dark deeds demons did
The day that dear Laura was slain.
Searchers had found
Some blood on the ground
And a shoe that bore a red stain.

Now Hope won’t elope
In the arms of despair,
There will be no surrender to fear.
The starlight so bright
Shines down its sweet light,
An Angel seems now with us here.

With strength, we shall share,
Here and everywhere,
The burdens of what must be done.
Till we set to flight
All lewd lust and spite
And justice and truth will have won.

 

© Trevor Morgan, June 2016

 

The writhing of the grieving dragon

Vikings may have attacked monasteries in retaliation for attacks on them.
Christian zealots such as Boniface had been destroying sacred groves and the Carolingians had enforced conversion with a policy of be baptised or killed, the font or the axe, across their northern borders.
This was before the first raid on Lindisfarne in 793AD.
This makes for a more interesting interpretation of events.
In my narratives I chose this theory as it makes a backdrop for ripping yarns

The writhing of the grieving dragon

“A Dragon grieved beside his nest,
His young and mate lay dead.
His tender love then failed this test;
Cold rage burned in his head.

He rode the wave on that cold sea,
Found monks on its far shore.
There seemed a sad pre-destiny
To pains that their Church bore.”

Dragon’s wrath

“The rage, the wrath, the foam, the froth,
The Dragon stormed to sea.
His Love was fragile as a Moth
And now had ceased to be.

It seemed his fate to seethe with hate,
Strike shore of other lands.
He changed then from his natural state,
So, blood now soaks the sands.

Through wrath and rage he wrote a page
Of blood-soaked history.
Why he should fade from off that stage
Might seem a mystery.

But rage and woe will make a foe
Retaliate or die.
Their ebb may then return to flow,
Events then sweep all by.”

Dragon’s Decline

The Dragon’s rage did not abate,
With him grew fat the Raven.
A love that’s twisted into hate
Could well at end turn craven.

The plunder that dark vengeance brings
Would turn from need to greed.
There’s some things may come with such stings;
At end the Dragon bleeds.

Vengeance may start momentum up,
Great mischief has begun.
Like drinking from a poison cup,
All Hope in life is done.

© Trevor Morgan, 2018

From: “Tales of the Half Dane Child”

Note:

The dragon was carved on the prow of Norse ships of war.
It is strange that in Europe the Dragon is fierce whilst in Chinese myth they are capable of being kindly to folk.

JAPANESE PRINTS AND A PORCELAIN VASE

Strange how writing comedy lyrics is harder than the dramatic!

JAPANESE PRINTS AND A PORCELAIN VASE

A guy asked me to dinner
So we could break the ice,
I very soon discovered
He had a secret vice.
I didn’t get to know him
For every time he speaks
All that he can talk of
Is his PASSION – for antiques!

Chorus

I didn’t get to know him,
I was lost and in a maze
Of Japanese prints and a porcelain vase.

So if I gathered dust
Like some old antique urn,
That could just be the way
In which I might return.
Then he would love me
And he’d not find a fault.
He’d treat me with respect
Then lock me in a vault!

Chorus

So let the cobwebs gather
On some other gal.
It’s time for me to say:
“So long darling and farewell”.
Cos’ I don’t want to know him
For every time he speaks
All that he can talk of
Is his PASSION – for antiques!

Chorus

I was lost and in a maze
Of porcelain prints and a Japanese vase

Of Japanese prints and a porcelain vase

 

© Trevor Morgan 1998

From: lyrics for “Candy Blue”

Bowlegged Buck

I like country music.
I like it because the lyrics are so integral to the art form.
Also although the songs are about Mamma, trains, getting drunk, etc., they also have a good tradition of the comic lyric.
I dedicate this to all boys named Sue!

Bowlegged Buck

A bowlegged cowboy
And his knock-kneed lady
The wanted such love
But well – maybe –
They’ll find it a chore.
They find it to so strained,
Yet, for their loving
Neither Complained.

The bed was no good.
The table all right.
So that’s where they spent
Their first lovin’ night.

Getting together
Though it was a chore
Is somethin’ they’re doin’
Now more an’ more.

But then with love
The question it begs;
How love finds a way
Through a mismatch of legs.

A bowlegged cowboy
And his knock-kneed lady
Enjoyin’ such love
And though – maybe –
They find it a chore,
They find it a strain,
Yet, for this loving
Neither Complain.

© Trevor Morgan, 2004

From: “Lyrics for Candy Blue”

Paying the bills

Strange we talk about the post war years.
New names are added every year of our young who have died in conflicts.
Every year since the 40s our people have died.
New names are added every year now to our national memorial and Alrewas.
As a veteran I feel the hurt.

DefaultCemetery

Paying the bills

Death has long been drip-fed
Through all the “post-war” years
And one by one the dead
Cause some to shed sad tears.

There were few grand campaigns,
Just lots of little wars.
Yet still there are the pains
We feel beneath our scars.

Was any of the cost
Of every fight and raid
For those who are now lost;
Worth that great price they paid?

The book is open still
For more to pay that bill.

© Trevor Morgan 2018

Decisive

Taking action is often the road to folly

Decisive

Decisive

I could spend a lifetime in tears,
Atoning for what I’d not done
And dwell with those ghosts and those fears
And hide from those Demons who won.

I could wreck great vengeance sublime,
Shed blood, bathe in its warm flow,
Kick back at each spiteful low crime;
Feel rage and its wonderful glow.

I could write great tomes that accuse
The wicked of every misdeed.
I could take to drink and to booze,
Seek comfort and greedily feed.

There’s little now I wish to do,
Nor think of each petty past wrong
As I look at this wondrous view,
Mid so many birds in full song

© Trevor Morgan, 16/5/2018

Dewdrop

Karma

Dewdrop

Dewdrop

“I am the pool upon the leaf,
So, it seems the simplest notion
That You’re the pool beneath the leaf.”
Said the Dewdrop to the Ocean.

© Trevor Morgan

From: My Muse

Sonnet – Their Little Girl

A family gathering for an event.

Family2

Sonnet – Their Little Girl

The Mother washed the child with gentle care,
She softly dried her lovely white clear skin
And brushed and combed the lovely blond long hair,
As overflowing thoughts were held within.
She dressed the little maid in her best dress,
Then dainty little shoes put on her feet.
She gave the child a sweet and soft caress
Then went beside the fire and took her seat
And sat there for a while on that damp morn.
Until came time to cook that special meal,
Her Husband came with Sisters all forlorn,
For all there felt such things that none ought feel.
No feelings though got said, not out aloud,
As they wrapped round the soft white linen shroud.

© Trevor Morgan, 16/5/2018

From: “Tales of Frigar”

Dedicated
to Barbara
her loss was total

Sonnet – Turmoil of the soul

I have felt for a long time that from turmoil comes the best poetry.
The idea that you can subsidise poets with grants and they can then write powerful verses is wrong.
Great poetry has come from war, failure, defeat, victory, anxiety and elation. It comes with falling in love or in death and loss.
It is difficult to write with passion over tea and biscuits in the warm.
Difficult, that is, for me.

Soul

Sonnet – Turmoil of the soul

Now wallowing through the mire that’s left by Hopes,
False Hopes that had proclaimed life would be good.
With spirits left all trussed up as with ropes;
Sad victims of false Hopes did what they could.
For wherein is there good in futile rage?
And how in sad souls can new joys be found?
It seems the Fates have writ upon their page
And Fortitude is now what must be found.
There is no point at all in seeking strife,
No point in gestures, nor in vain pretence.
It seems that turmoil like some jagged knife
Mars souls in ways that never can make sense.
New joys may well now come from smallest things,
Like some bird that’s unseen now sweetly sings.

© Trevor Morgan, Samhain 2004