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Wed, 05 Aug 2009
Mad Tom Tantamount, fantastic new prose from the pen of the brilliant Willowdown.
 GOLD AND SILVERAlong a riverbank

 Tom Tantamount.

Mad Tom Tantamount walked along the riverbank
and played his flute beside the fount
where butterflies and old cuckoos
issued from the singing mouths of harlequins and montebanks.
Tiny Butterfly
On an Autumn's clammy dawn he wandered where the trees were shorn
of leaves and flowers til their bones rattled in the wind and moaned
and all the butterflies were dead
and all the cuckoos flown and fled
and old Tom wandered all alone and played his flute to cloud and stone.

Mad Tom Tantamount lay his head in deep cold snow
and all his tunes went to and fro
where the dreams of stars are sewn and the souls of men are blown
inbetween the Midnight trees where giants crawl on hands and knees.

When the long cold Winter passed old Tom's bones had turned to mash
and barley grew between his toesEglatine, the
Wild Rose
and inbetween his eyes and nose
there grew a sweet and thorny Rose
but mad Tom played his ancient flute and all the Summer brought forth fruit.

Mad Tom Tantamount walks along the riverbank
and played his flute beside a fount
where butterflies and bold cuckoos
issue from the madcap mouths
of passing bards and mountebanks
and lads and lasses walk in wonder where the wild bees raid and plunder.

Old Tom dawdles through the day or strides upon his long thin shanks
where the crystal fountain sings
and brings forth things with legs and wings
- but though Tom plays his rustic flute
all the world is deaf and mute
and Sleep hangs heavy on the eyes of Men beneath the midday skies.


Manga's I love them, and the films.
Posted 17:37

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