poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2009


There was a gnome
He had no home
He lived within
A tin

At night he roamed
Upon cold stone
And freed himself
Of sin

The people scarce
The moonlight high
The ground it crept
He touched the sky

He saw the swans
The pair that swam
He stood and stared
From his cold land

He longed to be
Out there and see
The sights and feel
The free warm breeze

He dreamed of sea
And he dreamt the blue
Was covered by ground
And out of his view

When he woke up
Drenched in missery
He could not walk
Down his alley

As just a pecker
In history
And not a speck
In the blue

So he built a moat
Threw in it his tin
He swept open the moat
And threw himself in

The blue sea was harsh
And howled did the wind
And he saw the grey ground
Leave him

The clouds they churned
Not open sky
The thunderbolts fed
Upon waves high

And into the grim night
He sped with the winds might
And woke up
Early next morning

Cold of downfall
Pale and bleak
He was so hungry
He could not speak

He could not sit up
He was so weak
But he opened his eyes
And to his great surprise

He had floated back
Up onto land
Surrounding by sand
A beach wide and grand

The sunlight sparkled
The birds flew high
And all of a sudden
He wished he coud fly