Anansi And Anonymous Caller, Poems

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The owner of everything sits locked behind gates

Beyond thick bars of steel he watches and waits

He waits for the new ones, the young and the old

He waits for the meek, the firm and the bold

He waits for the pheasant, the soldier and king

He waits for the children, the mothers will bring

He waits for the sick, the healthy, the frail

He waits for us all both female and male

He owns all the sheep, the horses and cows

He owns all the goats, the pigs and the fowl

He owns all the fish and what lives in the sea

He owns all of life, all that can be seen

Yet just for a while, will he ride on our backs

Just for a while, does he own what we lack

Just for a while, will we smell his foul breath

Just for a while, will we face our own death

Spiders are clever when they want what is dear

Stealing from death without any fear

Throwing him off when he clings to their backs

Robbing his knickknacks, his trinkets and trap

Folklore and myth, legend and lie

Clever they are, yet still they must die

©2010 Tim Wilkinson/Wayne Wilks

Anonymous Caller

I listen close and try to hear,

The sounds I know will soon be there.

The ringing ends, the message clear.

The call complete and at my ear

My words are short and quite direct,

Their purpose plain, their goal descript

My mouth now moves as I inject,

My response to them from off my lips

The subject heats as I converse,

Knowing well my words and all my verse

I speak of love and things much worse,

As I describe my pleasures first.

I speak of things that some call sick.

I lay them out quite hot and thick,

Until the time I hear a click.

I then hang up. I’ve done my trick.

I often wish the caller could be,

Someone other than who I see

For well do I know that the callers is me,

When I playback the message on my answer machine.

© Tim Wilkinson & Wayne Wilks 1990-2009


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