Will Vigar

poet. writer. imposter.

The Goodfellow

4435-6026This baleful repetition –

reaped and sown

by the click and the flash,

shackled in spider-murk

and animate tangle,


is no jest or gawde

but the felling of bodies;

a casual ruination.

This radiant, illuminate

magnesium blaze


nags a fallen Robin

naked to the foothills;

to the oak woods;­­

to the court

of the unSeelie.


A caveat; this, for some reason has freaked me out a bit. It doesn’t feel like my writing and alludes to Shakespeare and other 16th Century playwrights.   The language isn’t mine and feels wrong. There are one or two lines adapted from Antonio de Torquemada’s ‘The Spanish Mandevile of Miracles, or, The Garden of Curious Flowers’. 

But that’s not what it’s about.


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This entry was posted on February 2, 2018 by in Poem, Poetry, Will Vigar and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , .
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