TOO SHOCKING TO BE TRUE

It had been a long, hot day, a twenty mile to the east
but it was over
but it was deegrees warmer, in baking afternoon heat.

Both sexes stripped to the waist under the sun's blinding orb.
Loved the sight of so many bare breasts.
They filled the air with whistles and cutcalls.
The odd feeling too shocking to be true.
Ploy?
Dawn had gone, morning was here.

The notion of imprisoning
nothing of the sort.

Moves were an age-old routine
performed every 3 to 5 days
wherever they were.

The leader was silver haired, well built.
Smelling blood.....
He was a traitor in his wildest dreams.....
shocking
hopes of glory were in ashes,
he placed a finger to his lips.
Shared a skin of wine.

No spirals of smoke rising from the roofs
no women were up, preparing barley porridge,
or baking flatbread.
No wine to wash your mind....
The sun set in a blaze of glory
staining the sky beautiful shades of pinks and reds.
The narrow gap, a thin beam of sunlight, woke me up.
Stories that have travelled all the way
being twisted and distorted with each telling.
Reliable as the ramblings of a drunk who pops up a bar.
Funny, not to be believed.

POEM ON THE GO

Others' faces tell their own story...
omens from the final sacrifice to be good...
i told of my dream last night
The dream of the burning eagle....
Prone to drinking and fighting...
seeking favour of the gods
Rectangle of stone sat upon a plinth carved with scenes...
traveling along the faster, paved roads west...
shades would haunt...
paces from wall to wall....
Eyes rise to the blue arc of the heavens....
wich was decorated with a scattering of lambswool clouds...
the skylarks yet trilled from on high
sign that spring was passing...
Keen-eyed expressionless...
I have built a bridge that will last forever.....a stonework...
eying the sinking sun...
bound to get away in the poor light....
at down.....

Eagle standards as our own,
to the thunder god
God pass your hand over
of trumpets in the nick of time.