For The Betsey, a Poem

She,
Stands out

She stands out

like a pacifist 

in a field of coppers,

he wonders what wonders,

beneath that bonnet,

for arty opportunity,

we take it as read,

we're walking in your shadow

as the Uriah Heap song said.

We take part & sup,

lock-in to the ethos,

we make art to chuck

& for keepers,

we catch a surprise,

in this kingdom of merry,

as time flies behind

the curtain of mem'ry.

We congregate,

up junctionally,

celebrate unpunctually,

lick wooer’s wounds

dysfunctionally,

adopt bar fly stance

presumptuously,

from city types

to Trots, we tug our

locks unsubtly,

bawdy bow &

canny curtsy,

triumphantly raise

tankards brim,

to those without

& those within,

The Betsey.