The corridor

When we arrived we were given cakes wrapped in soft paper, toothbrushes, fresh milk and lemon-scented towels.
Father spoke quietly and mother fussed with the sheets while my sister and I quarrelled over beds. There was a football; Father said I could kick it against the wall if I promised to be good, which I did for a while before my sister took a pair of scissors to it. Then a man wearing a raincoat came to drop off a box of wet books and oil paintings. “The milk’s out,” he said, like he was reading the weather. Lees verder The corridor

The king’s courage

When clement breeze blew in the court
he teased his counsel, tore and fought,
the eastern slaves were made to sing
‘A gallant land where boy is king!’

He gave his brothers chains to wear
and found a toy in church and prayer
made others lords by drawing lots
in silver chairs from chamber pots.

But shoulders silked were saddled down
with duty’s weight and golden crown
the knights of flag had lost the field
and took the sword before they kneeled.

The boy inside cried not for those
who made him great in paint and prose,
he found a thief to steal him pride
and soldiers young of face and hide.

He testified of lions and shield
and promises of Gods revealed
the chosen few to save the flock
from northern wars and iron stock.

But foreign spears rained over stone
and took the hearts that held the throne
and as the conquerer’s blade did swing
the boy at last became a king.