Fake by Stephen Kingsnorth

Stephen Kingsnorth | December 14th, 2022 | poetry | No Comments

Poet Bio

He led us out, pied piper,
for Hameln our school named,
the teacher for our music,
black notes, his scores for each.
Our nickname for him, Piebald,
without a hint of hair,
insisting our breath music,
if only funnelled toots.
A horrible concert programme,
we fingered as were told,
but felt the tone discordant,
just trap to get us there.
Our fathers thought him suspect,
our mothers found him sweet,
our siblings knew him ratty,
the way of the flute, fake.
His treat, end entertainment,
to lead the scholars out,
as plastic party playthings,
his instruments for show.
Some poor display of candy,
dressed gaudy garish fruits,
he piped us from our parents
into a stranger land.

Poet Bio

Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Poetry Potion.
His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/

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