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Salvation Is At Hand With Sister Darling On Partridge Island

Sister Darling, of

The Rarefied Church of the World (reformed),

Has been away on Crusades,

In the Provinces,

To attract (and save)

New Adherents.

(All Blessings to them).

But,

She has thus been absent

From mine own Salvation here,

On Partridge Island,

&

I do sorely feel the

Privation.

Howsomever,

A neatly penned note has

Been delivered,

Via an outgoing fishing boat,

To let me know that

My fulsome prayers are

Soon to be answered.

Hallelujah!

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

The Monarch Of The Lighthouse

I try to hoist the Union Jack

By sunrise,

And lower it by sunset.

I am not always faithful

To the former.

This morning, I was slow to the mark.

The sun was fully risen

In the East.

The colours caught the sun

Part way up the mast.

However, my chagrin was overtaken

By the antics of my cat/kitten,

Black as the disappeared night

With one white mitten.

I call him Paw.

So I went over to see

What was what.

He was huddled over

A folded Monarch butterfly,

Getting warmth from

The flag stones,

And much the worse

For wear.

It stood firm on its feet,

And stayed upright when the wind

Ruffled its wings.

Paw sniffed around, but kept

A respectful distance.

The smell of Death,

I suppose.

Still,

That Monarch has lasted out

The day,

And might still be present

When It is time to

Lower the flag

For the night.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

It Was A Dark And Stormy Week

Bop bop bop,

On the end of my nose.

Bop!

Paw, my cat/kitten

Black as a seam of coal

With one white mitten

Is waking me up.

Bop!

It is his way and,

Thankfully,

He never uses his claws.

‘Get up.’

‘Attention must be paid.’

Bop!

So I rise from my bed,

& my warm quilts,

Pull on pants and sweater

Over my pajamas

And follow.

I know my place.

He leads me to the door

Of my lighthouse keepers house,

And waits.

So I pull it open

And out he bounds.

Sunshine

Blue sky

Stiff breeze across

Partridge Island.

We have been days engulfed

In fog and rain and

FOG.

I let him gambol.

I follow into the sunshine.

I think it possible

Yes – possible –

That I might actually

Be able

To take off my sweater.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

A Right Royal Time On Partridge Island

Shiver me timbers

And call me Aunt Hattie,

Prince George of Wales

Is coming to the Island.

He requests (that is – orders)

A look-around

On his way into port.

I know not why.

Maybe to adjust his sea legs.

Before he meets his Loyal subjects.

At any rate, I must

Tidy and fuss and putter,

And wear my fancy uniform,

And present

(This is my own idea)

The one other loyal subject

Of this whole domain,

Paw, my cat/kitten

Black as Davy Jones locker

With one white mitten.

I’d best spruce up his cage

Yes – I must.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

The Sky Turns To Anger And Danger

It is one of those strange skies.

Strange morning light,

Not silver,

Not copper.

But both at once.

And the morning started so sunny,

Promising a fine fine day.

But now,

Even Paw, my cat/kitten,

Black as a midnight sky,

With one white mitten,

Is backing up

With a hiss.

Is the ocean going to throw,

And pound,

Our island and our lighthouse,

With storm and waves,

Wrack and ruin?

Or will it pass us by,

Like ghostly ships in the night?

I’m going to take Paw in

And give him meat.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

April Fool’s Day / April First / Taillie Day/ The Cat Laughs Last

It’s April Fools Day,

On Partridge Island.

And the pickings

Are slim,

For a laugh or a guffaw,

And that’s no joke.

I was reduced to

Tying a paper tail

To the real tail

Of Paw, the cat/kitten,

Black as ink

With one white mitten.

But,

It does appear,

He did not take it

With the same good cheer,

As did I.

It’s true I got a chuckle

At his annoyance,

And his tugging,

And tumbling,

To be rid of it.

Which I did myself

Within five minutes.

But perhaps not fast enough.

Can Paw tell time?

Can I make a rhyme?

I served up my luncheon soup,

And went to slice some bread

For sops.

I returned to my steaming bowl,

To find a headless mouse

Floating in the broth.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

Sister Darling Saves My Soul And Ignites My Coal For Valentine’s Day

Sister Darling, of

The Rarefied Church of the World (reformed),

Stepped onto the dock of

The Partridge Island Lighthouse

This Valentine Day morning,

From an outgoing fishing boat,

To spend the day (and night)

On behalf of my religious studies.

Provisions she brought, beyond

Usual Lighthouse Keeper fare,

Incl. chocolates and bottles o’ wine.

There were even finely cut

Fresh fish fillets for

Paw, my cat/kitten,

Black as soot

With one white mitten.

And when my religious instructions

Were done,

And before our festive feast,

We greeted each other with

Such enthusiasm,

That her hair-holding bun

Became undone,

And cascaded across her shoulders,

Giving Paw, the cat/kitten,

A place to hide.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

Sister Darling Saves My Soul In The Snow Storm Blizzard Of The Year (so far)

Like everyone along the coast,
Sister Darling, of the

Rarefied Church of the World (reformed),

Knew that a

“When Hell Freezes Over”

Storm
Was on the way.
She came to my
Lighthouse Island
The day before,

Because the fishing boats
(Her mode of transport).
Would be staying put in port.
She quickly got the soul-saving
Out of the way,
Renewed her friendship with
Paw, my cat/kitten,
Black as tar
With one white mitten
And then, the next day,
Romped with us
In front of the fire,
Happily sharing
Her own warmth.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL

Sea Smoke On The Water And A Cat On The Land

Too much excitement,
And confusion,
For Paw
My cat/kitten,
Black as last night

With one white mitten.

Down by the water.
I had to grab him
By
The scruff of his neck
(Just like a mother cat),
And haul him back
As he batted at,
And reached for,
The fog on the water.
Mind you,

I held him over it,
And let him kick

His darn fool legs
In every direction
At the white mist.
He growled
But they were,
Contented growls.

(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

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