Valhalla & Valkyries
Snow covers the battle scene,
seeing death amongst the evergreens.
A shield and sword in my grip,
in the snow we all stumble and slip.
Have I chosen a cold dead end road,
a grave and dew-licked grass as my abode.
Flat on my back I see a clear sky,
and a Valkyrie in my view as I lie.
Did I close my eyes, is this tale true,
did these maidens choose me and you?
Did I close my eyes, is this tale true,
does Valhalla exist for me and you?
Ice covers a river-side dream,
it breaks pulling me under the stream.
Sunlight drowns and daylight disappears,
an eclipse shrouding the mighty sphere.
Then a female voice spoke, softly saying things,
a myriad of watery swirls transform into a horse with wings.
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Fly For Free
A shimmering scarlet Sun is setting
Forever fading away, begetting
Sparkling silver stars to my sight
Winking wildly on this cloudless night.
You step outside, looking to the sky
Your arms outstretched, trying to fly
So I hoist you up high on strings
My angel without any wings
For someone so heavenly
Should be allowed to fly for free.
Such a happy life follows me
When you are all that I see.
Your heart will never stall
With me you’ll never fall.
Do you see why
I search the sky?
With dreams deep in your eyes
Cast aside all the wherefores and whys
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Ultimate Accolade
My love, my heart, please enter my dream,
Forever play with me in this world unseen,
Where you disperse the disparaged,
Enhance the love that is engaged,
Freeing me from despair,
Leaving me floating on air.
My lips, your kiss if you catch my gist,
Never awaken this dreaming somnambulist,
For you chafe and cull the cynical,
Raising me up to the pinnacle,
Making me completely unafraid,
To accept the ultimate accolade.
Come forward my sweet, my dear,
Fast forward the chronological gear,
Release me from my secluded yesteryear,
Relinquish me from my past phobia and fear,
Putting me in destiny’s slingshot or catapult,
Fire me forward for fabulous futuristic result.
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Baywatch T.V.
Watch me strut slowly across the sunny beach,
A red swimsuit beauty wiggling her derriere peach,
your eyes swaying with each step, gaping at my posterior,
every man on his knees worshipping their mother superior,
as we’re at the scene of Baywatch’s shoreline paradise,
the ladies here are going to make you look more than twice,
the oh so gorgeous look to woo the doe eyed kids,
even though you could play the xylophone on her ribs,
whoops sorry to pinprick her dream bubble,
but she could pass off as Skeletor’s stunt double.
So whilst they swagger around like big super stars,
wearing nothing but bikini tops and skimpy bras,
just remember stars are in my eyes, so Matthew tonight,
I am going to be a Baywatch (T) rans(V) estite,
so just imagine a Swedish soft porn star,
with a shaven head and smoking a cigar,
as this G.I. Jane buried a lifeguard up to her neck in sand,
head first, like an ostrich, you must understand,
and nabbed one of her famous red costume tops,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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The Black Unicorn
I set out to see the outside world,
A boy’s adventure tale to be unfurled,
but through my ignorance and naivety,
I am oblivious to a pickpocket’s thievery,
leaving me with an empty purse,
and a penniless plea to rehearse,
with no home I meander alone,
lost in the vastness of the unknown,
a weary and lonely soul travelling on,
until the daylight fades and then is gone,
but the mountains do come to my aid,
offering shade for a body so cold and afraid,
breathing through gritted and bared teeth,
I push myself towards the alcoves beneath,
finally I enter the ancient earthen caves,
that once sheltered heroes, slaves, fools and braves,
but the moon, a huge white capitulated eye,
in full bloom against the night’s sky,
shines down on a vision of unheralded beauty,
I sink to my knees in the name of duty,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Seasonal Greetings
March, April and May,
hail a brand new day,
for the three months of spring,
mark a brand new beginning,
as buds and bulbs start to bloom,
giving the garden a delightful boon.
The birds start their singing,
the bees start their honey making,
so for those who are down in heart,
remember this is a time for fresh starts,
so go out and find something new,
for your dreams could come true.
June, July and August,
A time when we all must,
remember our love for him or her,
to feel the real warmth of the summer,
embrace the hot sunshine,
during this summertime,
we can gather a collection,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Riddles Revisited
Riddle Me This?
The gates of hell stand wide,
open, so you can go inside,
but who can come out again,
and still be the very same?
A father has a son,
of which death has won,
one has more than the other,
which one of them does suffer?
Talk and the deaf will come,
rising above the pandemonium,
but a Banshee’s sonic stun, strikes you dumb,
how can you tell them what deeds you’ve done?
A debt is a debt,
until it is met,
unless they have a heart of gold,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Reminisce
Reminisce
(Story Part 1)
I sit upon my bed and remember my past,
to stir old dreams that never came to pass,
so I go ahead and search my memory,
something locked away for almost an eternity,
I need to open the door by finding the key,
for this is my final chance to set it free,
so I close my eyes and search my mind,
hoping that paradise is what I find…
I am standing upon a grassy hill,
next to me is a girl sitting so still,
bending down, I wipe tears from her eyes,
she knows me but cannot hide her surprise.
“No one wants me because I was exiled.”
“Fine.” I replied. She relaxed, then smiled,
and said “They all think that I am guilty.”
“Well are you? ” I responded. She glanced at me,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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All In A Days Work
You climb out of a nice and warm bed,
and the word “work” will enter your head.
So you start to clamber down the stairs,
but trip over your kids carefully set snares,
landing at the bottom you let out a cry,
sprawled out in a heap, to get up you try,
then you shake your head in total disbelief,
amazed that you are still in one piece.
You then sit down to eat your breakfast,
your stomach rumbling “food at last”.
Eating a bowl of milk soaked cornflakes,
your ears picking up each crunch they make,
while your stomach shouts out a boast,
that it wants twelve rounds of buttered toast,
washed down with twenty cups of coffee,
but it will have to settle for cornflakes and tea.
Looking at the clock, it says quarter to one,
so you think about putting some clothes on,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Miss Demon Manure
MISS DEMON MANURE
(Misdemeanour: Wiccan Woman)
It is official I am a tree hugger,
For I love my natural mother,
I am old, withered and hunched over,
But my soul is a supernatural nova,
Maybe I am weak, ugly and maybe I smell,
But my magic is a wonder caught spell.
The first I call is a woman of air,
A sprightly sylph whose freedom is beyond compare,
She takes me up in to the cloudless cobalt blue,
Diminishing my troubles whilst my dreams accrue,
Flying free where feathers normally float,
I look down on the human ants and gloat.
Once I’ve settled back upon the earth,
Just gliding on tiptoe across the turf,
I cover myself in compost and manure,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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