Gedicht
Steve Ely
JOHN BALL
JOHN BALL
JOHN BALL
Wycliffe’s words and Langland’s gave the Engliscback their tongue. Manor french and church latin,
cut-off in the throat, battening behind
the buttresses of keeps and cathedrals,
parsing and declining. Johon Schepe
proclaims his hedgerow gospel, singing
from the furze like a yellowhammer:
Johan the Mullere hath ygrounde smal, smal, smal.
The Kynges sone of hevene schal pay for al.
Be war or ye be wo; Knoweth your freend
fro your foo. Haveth ynow, and seith ‘Hoo!’
There were no lords in Eden’s commune.
Scythes sharpened on whetstones, gente non sancta.
War will follow the Word.
© 2014, Steve Ely
From: Oswald\'s Book of Hours
Publisher: Smokestack Books, Middlesbrough
From: Oswald\'s Book of Hours
Publisher: Smokestack Books, Middlesbrough
Gedichten
Gedichten van Steve Ely
Close
JOHN BALL
Wycliffe’s words and Langland’s gave the Engliscback their tongue. Manor french and church latin,
cut-off in the throat, battening behind
the buttresses of keeps and cathedrals,
parsing and declining. Johon Schepe
proclaims his hedgerow gospel, singing
from the furze like a yellowhammer:
Johan the Mullere hath ygrounde smal, smal, smal.
The Kynges sone of hevene schal pay for al.
Be war or ye be wo; Knoweth your freend
fro your foo. Haveth ynow, and seith ‘Hoo!’
There were no lords in Eden’s commune.
Scythes sharpened on whetstones, gente non sancta.
War will follow the Word.
From: Oswald\'s Book of Hours
JOHN BALL
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère