My darling, you hate me now
But give it time and I know
That you’ll find time to be sure
To hate me some more.
It was no lie to say I loved you
But I loved others equally true,
With skin softer, breasts better,
Hearts firmer, skirts shorter,
And times more exciting
Than our drab existence
Together. So don’t wait
And assume that we’ll
Be back together soon.
You hate me now,
But that’s only natural.
Just like you’ll be sure
To hate me more.
Grayson Ellis, 1989
‘Confessions’
Monday 22 September 2008
Wednesday 3 September 2008
Spiked Armadillo Juice
The first thing I knew were my legs going numb,
That holiday in Mexico, when tequila and I
Made friends and swore we’d never part.
You said that it was normal, a low level toxin
In the blood of the Armadillo, a quaint local
Curiosity that every tourist must experience
Once in the their small insignificant lives.
The feeling spread, you took me to my room,
And lay me out, as I complained of stiffness,
In joints that had not risen in years.
You said it was another side effect,
A happy reminder of why I was the man
You had come to love and intended to love.
I could do nothing for my arms had lost the will
That had once been further south, as you undressed
Me, as you had also spiked my armadillo juice.
Grayson Ellis (c) 2008
From ‘Spiked Armadillo Juice’
That holiday in Mexico, when tequila and I
Made friends and swore we’d never part.
You said that it was normal, a low level toxin
In the blood of the Armadillo, a quaint local
Curiosity that every tourist must experience
Once in the their small insignificant lives.
The feeling spread, you took me to my room,
And lay me out, as I complained of stiffness,
In joints that had not risen in years.
You said it was another side effect,
A happy reminder of why I was the man
You had come to love and intended to love.
I could do nothing for my arms had lost the will
That had once been further south, as you undressed
Me, as you had also spiked my armadillo juice.
Grayson Ellis (c) 2008
From ‘Spiked Armadillo Juice’
Tuesday 2 September 2008
Urgle Went T’Warbler
St. Mithens Day, down Shropshire way,
I met a man with a rimlocked hoe,
Who said, not knowing, I suppose
That I would share his path that day.
‘Marry me, for this I’m certain sure,
That those come selling these ways, door to door,
Are on an poor man’s errand, with no pay.
No mission earnings, for we who aren’t rude
Are bound to be to be a touch insane,
And better spoon honey up Rimdale’s Lane.’
That I could not deny, though sweat I blood,
Nor could I be swayed, for it were cloth to me,
The bidden way, spoon and all, to be
And in the hedgerow, as though tokened to sing,
Urgle went t’warbler, and I went mine.
Grayson Ellis (c) 1965
From ‘Urgle Went T’Warbler’. Reprinted with permission of the author.
I met a man with a rimlocked hoe,
Who said, not knowing, I suppose
That I would share his path that day.
‘Marry me, for this I’m certain sure,
That those come selling these ways, door to door,
Are on an poor man’s errand, with no pay.
No mission earnings, for we who aren’t rude
Are bound to be to be a touch insane,
And better spoon honey up Rimdale’s Lane.’
That I could not deny, though sweat I blood,
Nor could I be swayed, for it were cloth to me,
The bidden way, spoon and all, to be
And in the hedgerow, as though tokened to sing,
Urgle went t’warbler, and I went mine.
Grayson Ellis (c) 1965
From ‘Urgle Went T’Warbler’. Reprinted with permission of the author.
Welcome
I first met Grayson in 1972 when I was freshly released from prison after serving a three year sentence for my involvement in the animal liberation movement. I had been young and naive, caught up in the spirit of the sixties, but my incarceration was to change my life. During my time in HMP Holloway, I found comfort in books but my time was made easier once I’d discovered the dark, often comic, but usually morally complex poetry of Grayson Ellis, the so-called ‘Bard of Shropshire’. Just before my release, I had written to him and he had agreed to meet me.
Grayson was courteous from the first moment I met him. He did not judge me except to commend me for liking for the poetry of Philip Larkin. Over a pint of his favourite ale, he recited much of the ‘Whitsun Weddings’ to me from heart. He was reluctant to recite his own verse and said that it ‘didn’t deserve to take oxygen’ from the poetry of the man who he considered his ‘spiritual father’. Eventually, however, he relented and it was there in the ‘Smiling Farmer’ in Ruckley and Langley that I first heard the poem, ‘Urgle Went T’Warber’, recited by the poet who had blessed us with its creation.
Years passed but I kept in contact with Grayson. I had taken work for the local council and I soon had a family of my own to look after. Yet I had always wanted to work for Grayson, believing that his poetry was a vital link to the oral traditions of this country. However, Grayson was always too shy and retiring to accept my offers of help. He remained reluctant when I suggested ways of spreading his work.
It is only in recent years, after my family have moved away and I have spent more time with him, that Grayson’s stance softened to the point that he has now relented and I’m happy to set up this blog in his name. Grayson has given me permission to reprint many of his old poems and to also publish work as yet unseen in printed form. I can’t tell you what an honour this is and I hope that you will enjoy this adventure in the English language. I hope you will begin to see the genius of a gentle, genial bard, that I like to call my friend.
I would like to thank Peter and Susan from 'Comdex Wed Design' for helping me set up this blog. And I would, naturally, like to thank Grayson for permission to bring his work to a wider audience.
Grayson was courteous from the first moment I met him. He did not judge me except to commend me for liking for the poetry of Philip Larkin. Over a pint of his favourite ale, he recited much of the ‘Whitsun Weddings’ to me from heart. He was reluctant to recite his own verse and said that it ‘didn’t deserve to take oxygen’ from the poetry of the man who he considered his ‘spiritual father’. Eventually, however, he relented and it was there in the ‘Smiling Farmer’ in Ruckley and Langley that I first heard the poem, ‘Urgle Went T’Warber’, recited by the poet who had blessed us with its creation.
Years passed but I kept in contact with Grayson. I had taken work for the local council and I soon had a family of my own to look after. Yet I had always wanted to work for Grayson, believing that his poetry was a vital link to the oral traditions of this country. However, Grayson was always too shy and retiring to accept my offers of help. He remained reluctant when I suggested ways of spreading his work.
It is only in recent years, after my family have moved away and I have spent more time with him, that Grayson’s stance softened to the point that he has now relented and I’m happy to set up this blog in his name. Grayson has given me permission to reprint many of his old poems and to also publish work as yet unseen in printed form. I can’t tell you what an honour this is and I hope that you will enjoy this adventure in the English language. I hope you will begin to see the genius of a gentle, genial bard, that I like to call my friend.
I would like to thank Peter and Susan from 'Comdex Wed Design' for helping me set up this blog. And I would, naturally, like to thank Grayson for permission to bring his work to a wider audience.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
