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    Deceiving Wild Creatures
    Deceiving Wild Creatures
    Deceiving Wild Creatures
    Ebook88 pages34 minutes

    Deceiving Wild Creatures

    By Jeremy Over

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    About this ebook

    Creating a world of delight and amazement through language and love, this collection of bright, innocent poems celebrates the confusion of everyday life. Written with a brazen defiance of all things grave and serious, these poems disentangle the absurd and unreasonable, only to create a fun and challenging knot of language that defines the elusive aspects of reality that seem to eternally exist beyond the realm of rational control. In a humorous way, this compilation attempts to recover a sense of beauty in the ridiculous.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCarcanet Press Ltd.
    Release dateOct 1, 2009
    ISBN9781847778093
    Deceiving Wild Creatures
    Author

    Jeremy Over

    Jeremy Over was born in Leeds in 1961. His poetry was first published in New Poetries II. There followed two Carcanet collections, A Little Bit of Bread and No Cheese and Deceiving Wild Creatures. He currently lives on a hill near Llanidloes in the middle of Wales.

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      Book preview

      Deceiving Wild Creatures - Jeremy Over

      white 

      …and they lived happily until they died.

      She knew him at once and fell weeping upon his neck. Two of her tears fell upon his eyes, which immediately grew quite clear so he could see as well as ever. Everything that he had forgotten came back. He brought up the black poodle with the golden chain, and said, ‘this is the villain’. But the duck swam quickly forward, seized her head with her bill and dragged her underwater. Then they leapt over chairs and tables and out of the door and the horse sprang up and dragged the lion away behind him and in his rage he stamped his right foot into the ground so deep that it sank up to his waist. Just then he heard a rustling among the brambles and a golden apple fell into his hand and three ravens flew down and perched on his knee and in a short time she opened her eyes, lifted the lid of the coffin and when they got to mid-ocean, she dropped the nut. On that spot a fine tree sprang up on which the bird rested, then it took them both home where they found their child grown tall and beautiful and the blockhead rode up the glass mountain and ordered more spinning wheels. He was not devoured by wild animals. The grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine and the flies on the walls began to crawl again.

      Moustachioed

      Seventy years later and we are still just a vaguely connected

      series of squiggles sitting in the California sun,

      eating our brown bag lunches in Monterey one day

      and Eureka the next.

      But this is definitely someone.

      This is someone’s dark-haired wife

      looking down from her open window

      to the public fountains in the square below.

      She is waiting for something – perhaps for that moment

      when the bloodstained six-inch iron needles are finally lifted

      and basketwork becomes music.

      Or perhaps something else. In any event Mrs Williams

      – for it is indeed she – is falling asleep now and dreaming

      her way into an underwater cartoon adventure.

      First she mimics the sounds of a passing turtle,

      then a whale, a school of silvery fishes,

      a jew’s harp, various insects, sirens,

      footsteps, fireworks, whaps, slaps

      and finally an amoeba spreading

      discretely under the lens of a microscope.

      Notice the detail, complete down

      to the Christmas lights on the shrubbery.

      Note too how light from the front door window

      spills on to the little front step, underscored

      by a quick romping passage on the piano

      before the rogue elephant of the orchestra

      effs and blinds his way through a sweaty tango;

      a springboard of sorts into a steaming bowl of soup

      and some rather difficult questions.

      Why is it that white and yellow

      flowers are the first to appear in

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