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It Is The Full Moon / That Spooks The Crow / And Makes Me Wonder / What They Know

The crows are agitated


As they pause,

And perch,

On Partridge Island.,


Before they continue


On their way


To


Wherever that might be.


They spook


Paw the kitten,


Black as a crow


With one white mitten,


Who has been looking


At the moon,


Over his shoulder,

These last few nights


Before he comes in.


As it gets more,


And more,


Full.


Lighting the

way


To the Ghost’s night,


When the Dead


Appear


From the

Other Side,


On


All Hallows’ Eve.


I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}DE BA. UEL

Sister Darling Comes To Call To Save My Soul And That’s Not All

On the fourth Sunday 

Of every second month

Sister Darling of the


The Rarefied Church of the World (reformed)


Arranges to hop on a boat


Of the out-going fishing fleet,


And visit Partridge Island.


She returns to port


The same night


On a returning fishing boat.


In between her coming


And going,


She does her


Very best


To bring me


To the Lord.


I like to think


She succeeds.


And,


After this hefty dose


Of Bible and prayer,


We commune in the way


(She assures me),


That God intended.


Then we have a meal


I prepare,


Of venison, or salmon, or fowl,


And potato soup


And pie,


And ale,


And she departs

On a returning boat


Singing hymns.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}DE BA. UEL

The Storm At Sea Will With Us Be

Some of the ships


Passing Partridge Island,


On their way


To safe harbour,


Have been flying


Storm Flags.


The bad weather is still


Out to sea.


But I can feel it already,


As do the birds and animals.


The crows are agitated,


More so than usual.


Paw, the kitten,


Is too young to


Be let out into sea storms.


I have devised a cage,


With upright wooden slats,


Which


(I am surprised)


He happily jumps in,


So he can take


The salty air.


I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

Paw, The Cat, Wants To Hunt On Partridge Island

Paw, the cat,
Yes
“The cat”,
‘Cause he is not
“My cat”
No one ever owns a cat,
They are wrong about that.


Is getting old enough
To hunt.
But he can’t decide
(Or so I interpret)
Whether to go for
Fish or Fowl.


‘Cause he eyes the seas,
And he eyes the trees,
Making little, plaintive, chatters.


But the partridge,
That look big enough
To carry him away,
Oh
They must be
Tempting.


I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

I Doubt It Was A Ghost Ship – But I Just Don’t Know

I was tending the Light,
For the last time at Night,
When I saw a glow
Way out in the Bay.
Not the usual lantern lights,
At bow, and stern, and
Up the mast.


It was glowing,

Steady,

Not the flickering

When brushed

By the wind.


It’s the First of October,
And the ghosts,
Well,
The ghosts are getting ready.

It’s that time of year.
The dying time.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

I Heard A Dog In The Dark And Wondered

It was the last ship
I expect to see tonight,
Its ruddy lanterns
On the stern
Passing my Lighthouse
On its way to safe harbour.


Most ships do not want
To sail after dark,
Near the coast,
Near the rocks.


And a dog barked from
The deck,


And i wondered
What it thought,
What is smelled,
So close.


What were its
Expectations?

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

Enough Fog To Lose My Dog In The Bog

Mind you,
I have no dog
Here
On Partridge Island.


And
There is no bog
Here,
On Partridge Island.


There is grass,
And shrubs,
And fewer trees,
And the rocky,
Rocky,
Shore.


But I still would not
Have found my dog
In last night’s fog.


In fact,
I had to hold
Onto the rope,
Between my Lighthouse Keeper’s House
And the Lighthouse,
That I use in winter blizzards,
To find
The Lighthouse.


In that fog
You don’t even
See
The Light.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

Sandpipers Love To Hover And Soar And Take Over The World

I was roused from my bed

Tangled in the quilts of the bed

In my lighthouse keeper;s house

Close to my lighthouse

On Partridge Island

In the Bay of Fundy

By wingbeat

A storm of wingbeats

Thousands of wings

Beat beat beating

From thousands of birds

Sandpipers

Twisting in large circles

Around my lighthouse

Hiding my lighthouse

Whirl

Whirl

A  “bind” of sandpipers

A “contradiction” of sandpipers

A “fling” of sandpipers

A “hill” of sandpipers

A “time-step” of sandpipers.

That’s the best

“Time-step”

Because

With every twist

And tun

That flock makes,

They step

They SOAR

Out of time.

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021/ A lot of stuff have I seen/A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

Fog Shrouds Hides Protects The Ocean And The Island

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021/ A lot of stuff have I seen/A lot of stuff to report}

I see three ships

Saw three ships

see/saw

sea/saw

Come sailing in

Come sailing in

Though I didn’t (really)

Because of the fog.

Partridge Island fog

Saint John Town fog

Hides everything

It damn well wants to

Christmas Day 

Or not.

~ DE BA UEL

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