kfg moore

Skyros Jottings

It's a funny old island this Skyros.
Achilles, the heel,
Skulked about the place, cross dressing.
Rupert Brooke, that famous Flanders rent boy,
Rented a plot in a foreign field that is forever.....Skyros.
 
And reggae's rhythms hustle out siesta,
From its cock-ridden complacency.
But, no sweat, Marley lives,
And "Red Red Wine" rents the air,
Preparing us for the sweat-beaded
And much needed bottles,
Grudged out to us by careful,
caring waitress Amy at dinner.
 
And here on Skyros, the cats,
Shorn of public utility, are socialist thin.
And daily, seen or unseen, the sun drops down like honey,
Behind a right milky tit of a hill,
Signalling that here on Skyros, day is terminal,
Just like in any other funny old place.

© kfg moore