Wednesday, 5 October 2016

Poetry Thursday 232 - The frailty of being human #montypython

As a child of the fifties and sixties, a baby boomer, I was fortunate to be able to see the work of the Monty Python team. Sadly, one of the team, Terry Jones, has succumbed to a particularly aggressive form of dementia that attacks the communication centres in the brain. A cruel twist of fate for an ace communicator.

Image result for Terry Jones
Terry with his son

His demise inspired me to write the following.

Terry Jones

There he stood applause resounding
for past perfections audience standing.
Yet little of the intellect left,
supported by a son bereft.
The clever and amusing mind,
time has annexed and left behind
under the guise of a cruel disease,
giving those who are close, no life’s ease.
The only release will be the final breath
of Terry when he discovers death.
But in life constructed a marvellous CV
for God and an anfractuous legacy.
© David L Atkinson October 2016



A quote from the man himself,

Every age sort of has its own history. History is really the stories 

that we retell to ourselves to make them relevant to every age. So 

we put our own values and our own spin on it. Terry Jones


Terry has had an active role in producing our history.



Image result for national poetry society



The Poetry Society's annual competition closing date is the last day 

of October. If you wish to take part sign in to poetrysociety.org.uk

One of my entries is below.


Image result for sword of damocles

The Sword of Damacles

What power is always possessed
that could ever be under threat
of the dread weapon hanging overhead
waiting to render the target dead?

An ordinary man, a biological edge
between the realms of life and death.
A constant battle to maintain the border,
endless advice to balance the order.

The dread creeping club we joined
as soon as we took our first breath,
holds us beneath the glacier of age,
picking the spot of initial damage.

Not often a final, decisive, blow
to snuff out the fading light.
More a gradual, persistent penetration,
rendering the subject to infinite perdition.

The final release as the edge dissolves
and the vessel traverses to inevitable death.
All memory of pain and suffering gone
as the spirit is set free and travels on.
© David L Atkinson August 2016



God Bless