By Rhys Hughes
A KIND OF POET I wait in this box without locks for sinners to come and whisper into my unseen ear a list of the deeds they have done and undone deeds they want to do. And while I wait it’s true that I write little verses in lieu of muttering curses in response to what they reveal. I am a quiet kind of helper, a professional father who strives to heal the souls that would rather wallow in sin. Yes, in this blessed hollow wooden bin I convert failures of the spirit into mildly satiric lyrics. I am a confessional poet. DINOSAUR D’JOUR The dinosaur of the day is standing in our way. There are men on the menu for him and we are those men. But if you sing one of your awful songs it won’t be very long before he goes away and keeps on going. THE CONFECTIONARY SHIP The confectionary ship was once a normal schooner that was dipped in a vat of chocolate and should have been pulled out sooner than it was but it wasn’t. Captain Candy is at the helm and he is lord of the realm of sweet things but his crew don’t like him very much. The problem is that he has cream for blood and as a result is very rich, and rich men tend to look down on the poor. Whether he is truly haughty, who knows? But he is certainly toffee-nosed. THE TIGHTROPE WALKER The rope is slack, I can’t cross the canyon on that. The rope should be taut. Taut what? That’s a question easily answered. Physics, geography, economics, the history of political intervention. Anything else? Geology, biology and medical attention. Please find an educational establishment willing to enrol ropes. Yes, I will. Good. This rope should be taut by reputable teachers.
Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.
PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL.