Lions and Tigers

Stephen Philip Druce

The old guy told me
he thought that lions
were cowards because
they hunt in packs –
he admired the tiger
because tigers hunt alone.
I wondered if he felt
an affinity for the tiger
because he recognised
himself in them – solitary,
independent, courageous.

I mused over his words
and figured the lion smart –
a coward maybe, but
a coward with a full belly.
The tiger is dumb –
all bravado and no meal.

I didn't have the courage to
disagree with the old guy
because I was the lion
and he was the tiger.

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The Bird Man

Stephen Philip Druce

He talked to
himself –
softly but
openly,
and with crooked
finger he pointed
skywards,
imitating a
flying bird, moving
his hands like
wings.

I was glad
to watch him
because I wanted
him to be right –
and he was,
there was something
flying up there.
He smiled – pleased
to be sane enough
to know that birds
fly too.

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Because of the Deep Notes

Stephen Philip Druce

I saw poker-faced monsters in shuffling cars plot,
I saw the misshapen grins of arching fountains –
the pulsing hounds in shadowed gunshot.
In lost ships I saw ghosts within coats of forgotten stitch,
under the strips of desert skin I saw the old bones twitch.
I saw giants big as churches juggle fire in the alleys
where the fleeing fox sat, among the cracked walls
were the manacled cat calls and pouring fibre rat.
I saw the broken spine of stopped clock as the scattered stars wept,
without the midnight chimes the great conductor in the sky slept.
I saw misbehaving angels in chariots clad in gazelle breeze run,
I saw the roll of a hurricane bowl of palm trees glad of a golden peach sun.
I saw flesh crawl upon deserted beach floors in the name of contorted sin,
I saw the ocean contours rock in tender velvet hymn.
I saw horses gallop under backstreet tunnels that curved in graffiti art,
of a rainbow arc illuminating in the dark, and our names penned in a love heart.

Because of the deep notes.

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