Good Friday: Caerphilly

Walking tall prevailing like a sailing-ship full-sail 

She treads the public road

This blustery day of cloudless April sunshine leisure

Like as a ship whose sails are white; so white they hurt the eyes

With glamour proud she strides, and oh, how proudly rounds

The public roads

Hard-featured, goods-displaying, like a spendthrift shop-front

Her body-wares hardly concealed, her breasts amounting

A low-cut black, close fitting filigree; and black her legs, her leggings,

In black her high, high-heels hang lifted high as all her scorn expressing;

In trim, a mettled fighting ship, and frigate of the line

Here then today Good Friday comes this busy afternoon

This glorious and uncertain flirting gaudy April day

A ball the sun, and cloudless winds come blow raking stood pools

The severed grasp of winter limps into its box, lies down

This Friday is indeed so good this year, the peoples swarm

Uncovering making Mother Hubbard’s Cupboard their attires

Sunlight the signal for delight’s denuding; unclothed backs

And fronts, and elsewheres, wherever nature lends to

Over shocking blocks of pink bits, manes of marmalade,

Of merry marigold, and listless blue,

Maybe a mayhem green, flows blowsy down

To furnish necks of men

And women too, stood chatting sipping spitting fizzy–ades

Navels and midriffs shaking baste their ghastly prank tattoos

Concur in a display this Friday has not dampened sails

And here is this besides, a wooden cross heaved up; where bustles squawk

A mixed debris of people milling, whom The Truth has called;

Stood here this year to celebrate (a much mistaken term

Not partying, nor beer extravaganzas) sober-tended care

To bring to mind their Master dead, alive, alive, again

(He died in Roman Empery and resurrects their lives)

And I too get a holy kiss this day, as much to say

A calling card from Christ’s mathetes ardent of The Way

A folded bedesman staggers, tall, unsteady, sere of eld

His heart so full though beckons, he has taken up my hand

And gives it Easter blessing

“Excuse the stick” he smiles and gasps; his holding my own eye

Congratulates on God’s renewal for this Easter day

This little cache for all the world declares for new endeavour

New frame of reference, brand new bearings; tacked-about new-course

Whether or will much general thrill amount, redound, redouble

Through Coventry or Leicester Square or Ayr or Willenhall

In Kansas, Acapulco, or Dakar, far Melanesia,

Bahrain, Johannesburg, Sofia, Bonn

Whether or will our human skill find love too strong a washing

Here bids an Indian Summer strewing April flowers plashing

Roadsides time-warped a trail of swathes of serial dandelion

Before their time, clocks still to come, to crown their yellow style

Here pour they to be counted, as the diverse children’s tribes

Numbered themselves; like buntings whiling sedentary hours

Annunciating iterate their sempiternal round

Whether the time right now is right that Spirit make encounter

Or is not this hot April day, this crucial middle hour

When flowers uprear, come spilling over, forth, to sprawl forever

Spores’ billion billions, golden grains resourcing all potential

Each fleck a providential germen thousandfold commissioned

As like are we

%d bloggers like this: