Wednesday, 27 November 2013

© At Another Time…

© At Another Time…

At a fevered pitch, the world attempts still to enrich uranium up to 235.
At the eleventh hour on the eleventh day of the eleventh month...will we still survive?
‘At Last’ is an impassioned song, delivered so strongly by the impeccable Etta James.
At another time, on another occasion, there will be persuasion to participate in games.
At a standstill, the whirling dervishes were curling their moustaches with great abandon.
‘At My Desk’ sat Charlie Chuckles who darkly coloured drawings that little children fashioned.
‘At the Cross’ is an English hymn, when devotees on a whim, sing exulted praises to their messiah.
At the meditation centre, I had a dream I was a centaur galloping and neighing to the music of a choir
At the ashram, Andris sat cross-legged at Mangrove yoga as he strove to make some sense of it all.
At one with nature? No, we are at two and nothing we can now do will reverse the planet’s fall.
At the bicentennial rally, briefly I got pally with cross-gendered protestors in Hyde Park in ’88.
At the bottom of the garden, without a ‘beg your pardon’, came fairies, hobgoblins and dykes incarnate.
At the battle of the sexes, I was struck in the solar plexus by a person of an ambiguous disposition.
At the third stroke it was apparent I was a new bloke; no need to take heed of emotional ammunition.

At the beginning, perhaps we thought that we were winning the war on world poverty.
At best it was a token gesture; a cynical brokered device to defuse adverse publicity.
At the coal face there was always a race to have a face as black as balsamic vinegar.
At the trivia night, though we had less wrong than right; it was not enough for a voucher for dinner.
At the apex was the diva who recorded the best version of ‘Fever’; of course... she was Peggy Lee.
At twilight, you’ll just hear her singing when lights are low; always a treat for you and me.
At the looking glass stood Alice, who leapt in with no malice, and stormed the red palace of the queen.
At the hospital I had an inhospitable encounter with a physical fitness trainer who ruled supreme.
At another time and place, I’ll fall flat upon my face, heaving like a whale upon a beach.
‘At my command, I’ll have you stand and take it like a man – remember the whip’s within my reach.’
At my wild erratic fancy, an image comes of Clancy – it’s a deliberate misquote so’s to use another ‘at’.
At my knee I have an old banjo-ukulele, I like to strum from time to time and scare the cat.
At the conclusion of this verse, you could say I’ve written far worse – but after all, who really cares?
At least it mentions ‘fever’; at worst it’s like a blunt meat cleaver – chopping up ideas, my dears that I now have shared!

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