Alchemisland

In the morning no sign of the knights

Off with their hides, hied to the night

Only memories left behind

As rind and reminder

Life can be like a wine cup, full up of the good stuff

Or empty, a wind up bird it can sit in the drawer or fly plenty

High hundreds of miles, twenty three crystal dials allow me to travel time

Veni, Vidi, Vici then he leaves the stage, the borrowed ears no longer quell their rage

At this stage of the journey I have only a page or two remaining 

My strength the bane of waning, abating all hail storms come the sun daylings

We are green hill sailing today, we are at play pushing and shoving and commending the day

For its beauty, our way is well lit, in the distance our sole duty, our soul’s loot, a sooty dirty city

Called Coventry

I daydream of cityscapes wholly alien, to me or any other of this world

Its railings rise higher than anything where I hail from, from lanky buttresses flags twirl

In the wind, a sense of never having seen the world

A worm turning within me, this city somehow all cities

In fire all fires, a wise man said that, and a wise man pities

But the wiser man stays giddy

I used to holiday in Cork in Ringaskiddy, thinks Mick

He doesn’t bother fighting the smile on his lips

Now are here in this ringed city, like a thing from Plato

We have come a long way from planting praties and hauling potato crates 

Eating potato three times a day with oat cakes, and having to pray for it

Aren’t we glad we prayed for better, and set off fast like eager setters

We are settlers here, we want to settle down before we get there

We drop into a tavern and order two tankards of bitter beer, brown as the weir

Barkeep not one to speak up barks only price and please plants one tankard in front of me

Sounds like he’s from Cumbria and when I ask he reacts dumb

I retract the question and ask have I offended, he lowers a thumb

Extends a hand, name is Alan and I’m from the fens, my dad was an eel man

I run a tavern and that’s him there, points to a portrait dad eel in hand on a riverbank

I thank him for sharing, he apologises for glaring but uses silence to unmask mountebanks

A while later I’m ateing my final peeled tater while a piper plays a virile reel

Reels us in with home feelings, we slam our shanks down onto the planks

We sing the broad majestic Shannon, we hail brave boys from Bandon

We craic with rare abandon, our joyous feeling outfountains at random

We have two lovely ales, ser, we feel a wind is up our sails

Another drink hear us wail, ser, soon we’ll crawl like snails!

We are at that bar for hours, to those small seats nailed

Until golden day is at its last, the light is orphan pale.

---

We bail our cloaks and thanks our hosts and stumble out the final road

Our quest alas proves not in vain, we conquered pass and lengthsome vale

With victory so close at hand, our destined land, how could we fail?

O tempted fate cruel as angel rage, my words were bait to Lady Failure

Out from the lane the beggar who proved bandit, gentlemen may I stay you

He had abraded skin, praised us as saints or angels due to save him from himself, from sin

Once we were reeled in he unleashed his blade long and thin and finned

He cast his right arm in a wide arc, tried to stick it 

I ducked it, only just, and the unjust blade bit nothing

He swung again quicker, surer still

But before he could be stilled

Hilt hit bone, he doubled over

So my counterpart was killed.