January isn't my new year
October brings new color everywhere
a month of change and coming cheer
and filled gun racks here and there.

Companionship around a camp fire
with tales of hunts from long ago
inflamed bucks' intense desire
discussing where we ought to go.

The smell of gun powder and oil
and wet wool on rainy days
looking forward to the coming toil
of dragging deers where puddles glaze.

SAD FANCIES FRET MY MIND

a prose poem by

ROBERT DAVIDSON

79 Autumns I have seen
in a life that cannot be forgotten

54 Winters We have seen
since attachment as destined .

How many more autumnal poetry
I shall compose
can anyone now suppose

Many chills we have to bear
winter here kills

so we trot away to another sanctuary
migrate as birds
see you next summer
be patient please .

now going for a morning walk
wait kindly

If you carry a bellyful of discontent for me; show it now
At this time all that breathes; squirms by my twisted actions
Hold their hand in this well earned malice and make me crawl
Do not appear in sudden flair of pity afterwards
Oh woe in my mirror; do not do this as my soul does witness this wretchedness
Nor enter behind me through a crack unguarded of this beaten fiend
Do not allow today’s hanging low of black cloudiness
turn to hurricanes in hours coming
Then delay a goal of measured depose

In my grave when I die cover me with red roses
Celestial Angel she wore white to my mass
Well in to the night she keeps the torch lite flame
on to my cistern life’s all over Graves Sites where
you put your head to rest
Ah pack a hungry wolves their in the meadow hunting
the lonely one cries he’s on his hill top howling
In the night we come to burn down your house there
Is no doubt your in trouble now
Vultures in circles of the sky they hover above
the beasts prey
Sparks off the swords the clash of Steele lights up

The birds roam the air
the lions in the jungle their majesty spreads
the whales on seas' thoroughfares ply, yet
in one transparent accord march them along the sky axis.

Around the four cardinal poles in jostling bliss they amble
in solemn fortitude far beyond their straying wings and eyes
in and out of the giant wintery doors of equinoctial winds
they glide and flap in search of the great unknowable.

One single voice cries n the night

bless me father
for I have sinned
I've traded my soul
for one night of lust

Another voice answers
to whom do you pray
to save what is now mine

Amid the writhing
creatures chant
the vile stench of the dead
and the dieing
permeating her nostrils
as the gasping for air is heard

To what end have I come
all for the sake of wanting
was it worth this

Incantations to the dark one
rise as she falls
deeper and deeper

Pictures of many wars

By Robert Davidson.

Many more from war are returning now
In varnished wood boxes each quite alone;
Boxes nicely draped with flags, ready to occupy
A polished white mansion of marble or stone.

Buildings fall in thick columns of smoke, as
Bombs drop death on each wife and daughter,
‘Midst the roar of guns, hitting the innocent, and
Out-does old King Herod’s cold-blooded slaughter.

As the daylight becomes short,
I will have to wander more
The quiet of the evening’s shadows
Close over my ways with a new coolness

I always find this a comfort
People stay their thoughts early,
Yet the morning still brings
The laughter of the children

They wander past to school,
Our future is hidden there
To be awakened by learned thoughts
It is for us to guide them