Clinton Inman



Now quite predictable in your
Glasshouse gravity that
Once would send even
Merlin to a trance with
Marks and measures
To a ring of midnight monoliths.
But no more mysterious
Than a bride in July
Your borrowed brilliance
Exposes you and your
Darker side cannot hide
You as they have shaken
The last gumball from your head
And all you have to show
For it are flags and footprints
By your bed.


Moon, what made you play
Your hide and seek
Behind every fleeting cloud
Where you would peek
Like a child to cast your smile
Upon me all the while?

Teach me O Sprite to be like you
To play catch with every falling star
To ride the tail of a comet like a slide,
To hide Jack Frostís pants in briar,
Or hide the Musesí flute in hay,
Teach me O spite your play.


Real love comes not with arrows
But with shovels and wheelbarrows.


London Bridge has fallen down
Fallen down, fallen down
Piece by piece they took it down
Took it down, took it down
Sent it to a foreign town
Foreign town, foreign town
To a place called Havasu
Havasu, Havasu
Now there is no more bridge
For me and you, me and you
My fair lady!


King Richard the Lionhearted
His statue is standing tall.
Mighty Richard bravest of kings
Still beckons us all,

Beside the buildings of Parliament
To sanctify some royal spot
This once proud Plantagenet
Now faces a parking lot.

Lead the charge against the Mammon!
The modern Sphinx of talk and taxes
Whose cruel comforts chains all in common,
Lead us again with battle axes!

Come, awaken our listless lot!
Awaken the spirit of us all!
Make Britain again a Camelot!
Sound the trumpets! I hear their call!

Your princely pride soars to newborn heights
Awakens us with your lionís breath.
--But, perhaps our finest hour has passed
Rekindle it again or lay your wreath.

Copyright © 2011 Clinton Inman

Clinton Inman is a high school teacher in Hillsborough County, Florida, is 65 and a graduate of San Diego State University. He was born in Walton on Thames, England. His recent publications include: Warwick Unbound, The Poetry Magazine, Down in the Dirt, May, June, July, The Inquisition, The Journal, The New Writing, The Hudson Review, Essence, Forge, Houston Literary Review, Greensilk Journal Northwest Spirits Magazine, to name a few, and recent on-Line publications in BlackCatPoems,, Cynic Magazine, IZ, and Vanilla Press. He hopes these poems will eventually be published in a book called, ďOne Last BeatĒ as he considers himself one of the last Beats standing.