It’s the shortest day
Of the year,
As old Sol
Shifts his ass
Over the Equator.
Then the days
Get longer,
And the weather
Gets warmer.
Hah hah / Hah hah.
I told this to
Paw, the cat/kitten,
Black as hidden ice,
With one white mitten,
And,
If he didn’t laugh outright
He at least,
Smiled.
(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’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
It’s the full moon before
Christmas Day
With a heavenly glow,
On the water.
I’ve often wondered if
The Star the Three Kings
Followed,
Was really the Moon,
‘Cause I bet those old
Translations
Were really buggered.
Any way, I have unfurled
Swaths of red and green
Sail canvas,
Down the side of
The Lighthouse,
To be festive for
Approaching ships.
And if
– if –
Anyone comes to visit,
I have a red riband
Necktie
For Paw, the cat/kitten,
Black as the space between stars,
With one white mitten,
To wear by way of
Jesus celebration.
I’ve tested him with it,
He doesn’t mind,
Though, by now,
He knows there will be
Extra fish in his dish,
Whenever I
Tie one on.
(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
A Brigantine
Hove to,
As it came past
The Lighthouse,
On its way
Into harbour.
A rowboat came to
My small dock,
And,
Deposited a cask
Of Caribbean rum,
Compliments of my cousin,
The ship’s Boatswain.
And it appears
The fame,
Of my cat/kitten,
Black as the rum
With one white mitten,
Is spreading across the seas.
Though perhaps, not
All seven of them.
For there was also,
A ball of twine,
With some loose ends,
That has become
An instant,
And favourite,
Plaything.
(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
Tend to a Lighthouse,
On an island,
On the sea,
And you get the feel
And the smell
Of the weather,
Moving toward you.
So,
There’s a blow
Heading this way.
I’ve put up the rope,
Between my house
And the Lighthouse,
To grab onto
Some Jeezly fierce.
And I’ll be carrying
My cat/kitten,
Black as a storm cloud,
With one white mitten,
In his cage.
‘Cause he’s a
Fierce little bugger,
And will go out
Into it
To his
Peril.
He’s been sniffing
The storm,
And the excitement
Consumes him.
(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 call of the loon
Is plaintive,
And crazy,
And seems to fill
The Harbour,
And
Maybe even
The moon itself.
Because it sounds,
As if,
It can go that far.
It makes my cat/kitten,
Black as night,
With one white mitten,
Shiver
And hiss
And not stray far
From me.
Though Paw
Is tempted,
By the full moon
On the surface
Of the harbour.
And peers,
And mutters,
And even dips,
His one white paw
Into
The yellow,
And mellow,
Wide band
Of moonlight
Streaming
Right at him
Across
The water.
(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 cat/kitten,
Black as a crow
With one white mitten,
(I call him Paw),
Was prowling
By the Lighthouse,
As he likes
To do,
When two crows
Decided
On a bit of
Sport.
They flew toward him,
Then one veered
Left,
And the other
Right.
Paw twisted,
And dodged,
And fell
Ass over tea kettle.
And I,
For the first time
In my life,
Heard
The laughter of crows.
(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 am attired
In my navel uniform,
Which I am sometimes
Expected to wear,
In service
To my Monarch.
I represent the might
Of Majesty,
As sole subject,
Yet overlord,
Of the Lighthouse
On Partridge Island
I am to stand at
Attention,
And even salute,
As a Man of War,
All three masts
And 124 cannon,
Sails past from harbour
On its way to sea.
The Captain
Will stand
On the bow
To salute me.
I am going to give
Each owner,
Of every telescope
Trained on me,
A treat,
And
A tale to tell.
I am going to be holding
Paw,
My cat/kitten,
Black as night
With one white mitten,
In his cage,
To let him
Inspect this departing,
Fighting ship.
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
A fishing boat
Came into my
Lighthouse dock,
And rang its wheelhouse bell.
So, down I went.
The skipper had some
Unexpected provisions for me.
Crabs – it’s the season.
Lobster (he apologized for
The junk fish, but he knows I
Quite like it, whereas others
Class them as fare only
For the poor).
And Dulse!
A burlap sack
Of Dulse.
Now that is a treat.
Salty, .dried and crisp
Seaweed.
I have it with sharp cheddar.
I don’t know why folk complain
About lobster
.Boil them up, but not too long.
Crack them open with a hammer
.Have a loaf of bread.
Melt a large bowl of butter.
Dunk
A hunk of bread
With one hand,
And a chunk of lobster
With the other.
Pause occasionally with
Dulse and cheese.
Suck your fingers.
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
Paw,
The all black cat/kitten,
With one white mitten,
Is having the time
Of his
Young
Life.
We are in the Lighthouse,
On this Guy Fawkes Night,
Searching down the gunpowder
The dastardly villain
Has planted.
This has been part,
Of my traditions
For years.
Straight from
My Father.
Remember Remember
And though I tell Paw,
The cat/kitten,
To run wild
And
Search everywhere,
In truth,
He doesn’t want to
Stray too far
From my side,
Which is fine.
For,
In truth,
The Lighthouse is
A strange
And peculiar
Place.
So he stays near
To the glow of my
Lantern,
As I go through
My ritual.
We are both pleased.
And,
Will both
Have a
Fine Fish Feast,
When Guy Fawkes is
(As he inevitably is)
Brought low.
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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