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
If my cat/kitten,
Black as coal,
With one white mitten,
(I call him Paw)
Was not black as coal,
He’d be lost to me,
And to the ages,
In these drifts of snow
Covering Partridge Island,
After the storm,
From down the coast,
That left us so white.
I kept him in while
It raged,
Which he took to kindly.
But I let him loose,
The next afternoon,
Because a cat/kitten
Got to learn the
Ways of the world.
He took to the huge drifts,
Like a fish to water.
And when he tried to
Chase a rabbit,
I laughed myself silly.
And, (I bet),
So did the rabbit.
(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
To be at my most truthful,
“I was there first
Waiting for the bus.”
But then one crow came along,
And settled into a tree,
And then fluttered to the ground,
And then hopped upon the fallen leaves,
Making quite a noise, it must be said.
And I, of course, looked around,
And up and down,
Because I didn’t want any sorrow.
But within a minute of my searching,
Another crow settled into a tree
So there would be joy in my life.
Then it hopped and landed on the ground,
And made a fuss in the grass,
Which perhaps encouraged a third crow
To swoop and settle beside it.
So then I assumed a letter
Was coming to my door,
But then crow number four
Made a quartet
Just as the bus arrived.
Then all eight eyes
Fixed me with a stare,
As the doors swung open
And I paid my fare.
DE BA UEL
Sister Darling takes
Her Ministrations
To her far flung flock
Seriously,
And never more so
Than at Festive times.
An outgoing fishing boat
Dropped her off early
At my Lighthouse dock.
And her
. . . admittedly . . .
Earthy ministrations
Took the place of breakfast.
But she had also
Brought foodstuffs
And
An Advent calendar.
She let me pluck out
The first gift.
A substantial chaw
Of Spruce gum,
Which will last me long.
She also brought
A small bag
Full of some herb,
For my cat/kitten.
Let me tell you,
He was kept right occupied
All day long.
(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
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