top of page

(Derivation of word Crone.

From the old French Carogne - Carrion. From the Latin, caro - flesh)


Tame me.

Feed me biscuits.

Sweeten my breath with sugar.

Calm the beast.      


                                                                             “Thank you, dear, I’ll have a Rich Tea.”

I smile.

I lift the cup in strange paws that shake,

                                                                          “More tea? Let’s sing some old songs?”

But, sugared as a bumblebee,

I’m gentle with her.

                                                                                                             “You choose, my dear.”

She’s a volunteer, apple fleshed.

She chirrups

                                                                         “Right, here we go. As lovely as a tree?”

Soothe the beast.


She knows.

I am carrion. The crows eye me from the sky.

My body sand-blasted, speckled,

pegged out on a Serengeti plain.

                                                                                       “You remember this one, Mrs. B?”

She sings.

                                                                                                       “Little old lady passing by,

                                                                        Something, something sweet and shy.”

Stroke the beast.

Quiet the beast.

Three tablets in the plastic pot,

Lest we shamelessly strip our carcasses

and howl at the moon like wolves.

Our dreams become monochrome.

The rage that Catherine-wheeled in colour

fades to grey.

Keep feeding the beast.


Oh, I’m weary of old songs,

Pity has stopped my mouth,

the beast falls silent.


                                                                                                                 (Songs remembered:

                                                               I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree.

                                                                                                      Little old lady passing by.)

Crone: Text
bottom of page