Thankye to brilliant editor Nolcha Fox for publishing my five poems in the superb Chewers by Masticadores. Delighted.

5 Poems by Strider Marcus Jones

5 Poems by Strider Marcus Jones

YOU ARE A LONG TIME COMING

you seem so set
to be the movement on my wreck
you are a long time coming.

deep slide
up
down
after walking
in the town;
alone, pride
is a cup
spilt sound
of restless
self running.

the rustle of your dress
ends my emptiness
you are a long time coming.




WHEN YOUR RIVER IS WILD AND WIDE

lip lap
forward and back
up down around
we are altered and can’t change the gap
sighs mouth mound.

slip slide
rise fall come in go out on tide
caress
confide
rebel be alive

in the saturated beauty of it all
along each width of wall
such tenderness
resists what can oppress
when your river is wild and wide.




AN OLD WELL

an old well,
closely clustered
with the detritus of age
doesn’t tell-
who has whispered
or gazed
into it’s wise abyss
to consummate a coveted wish.
it doesn’t judge
or smudge
the beauty that is spoken
when those lips
fall open
to it’s thoughts and quiet quips-
that thread, is never broken
or it’s bed
shed
in these silent seasons,
that have their reasons
for waiting to be told-
so don’t lie down
or feelings fold
in sadness, like a clown
who hesitates
with the wanderers of fates-
white gold
doesn’t rust
in the trial and trust
of the truth it makes.




LOTHLORIEN

i’m come home again
in your Lothlorien
to marinate my mind
in your words,
and stand behind
good tribes grown blind,
trapped in old absurd
regressive reasons
and selfish treasons.

in this cast of strife
the Tree Of Life
embraces innocent ghosts,
slain by Sauron’s hosts;
and their falling cries
make us wise
enough to rise
up in a fellowship of friends
to oppose Mordor’s ends
and smote this evil stronger
and longer
for each one of us that dies.

i’m come home again
in your Lothlorien,
persuading
yellow snapdragons
to take wing
and un-fang serpent krakens,
while i bring
all the races
to resume
their bloom
as equals in equal spaces
by removing
and muting
the chorus of crickets
who cheat them from chambered thickets,
hiding corruptions older than long grass
that still fag for favours asked.

i'm come home again
in your Lothlorien
where corporate warfare
and workfare
on health
and welfare
infests our tribal bodies
and separate self
in political lobbies
so conscience can’t care
or share
worth and wealth:

to rally drones
of walking bones,
too tired
and uninspired
to think things through
and the powerless who see it true.
red unites, blue divides,
which one are you
and what will you do
when reason decides.




MONOCLE

remote ramblings,
stepped and spoken-
like gambling’s
that bloomed-
only to be broken,
wandered
and roomed,
waited on quiet landings
like squandered perfume-
left open.

marxist marches.
mithril kisses under gothic arches-
role playing elf and cleric
in cold caves removed from Berek
the Halfhand’s chronicle,
seem mesmeric-
when seen through monocle.

but the other eye looks back too,
inside this rhapsody with you;
and the light-
switched off.
switched on.
off,
and on,
loving day and night-
through prose phrases
and shared phases
of captured sun and moon-
flying mellow yellow,
on white witches broom;

knows nature’s laws
has moods
and flaws
in her quietudes-
to reason cause,
and fathom clues.

Copyright © 2024 Strider Marcus Jones
All Rights Reserved