Penguinness Part 1

In Search of Penguinness Part 1

Look for the black and whiteness

You know this greyness doesn’t pay

I want life to be so righteous

There must be a wrong and right way

You know we need to find Penguin-ness

The white head upon black hills

There is a place they must drink Guinness

Whoever said that blackness kills?

All in all, in all this whiteness

There is not a hint of beige

If only my rugs could know this rightness

Like the black ink dries on the page

We are Penguins, yes, you’ve guessed it

There is no fish we haven’t found

On the summit of the iceberg

Little mountains are our ground

But like us there beneath the surface

That’s where mass of thought is sound

Yet what recurs to us is whiteness

In the vastness of the white surround

So, we search for black and whiteness

Even if they’re poles apart

It is best to reach for the brightness

Than to sink with a black heart

If you see us treat us kindly

For to see us is a sight

Then you’ll know the snow less blindly

For our image is there by right

In our search, we dig a tunnel

Through ice-shards that glimmer bright

Because in the darkness of the big funnel

Flows the Guinness of Penguin delight

I make no joke to follow screens of smoke

There are no cloak and dagger plans

It is a clear quest of all Penguin folk

To find meaning and truth in their own lands

We go crawling on, stumbling our old shuffle

The Fleet gulls slip through the sky

On the ground our feathers are all a ruffle

The music of the wind blows chill

As the arctic choirs shrill

Their moaning hues, and closed cup whistle

Blowing relentless as a tumbling thistle

Across the plain comes again, and again

Like a black cat in an all white world

Turning loose the barrels

Like cannons of assault

This way, that way the ice-rivers dance like a colt

The moon spins its silver threads of light

Across the sculpted ice flow,

And turns the blandishments of might

Into figurines of Michelangelo

Like a spider she spins her moon lit web

To capture unsuspecting travellers in their ebb

At lowest point they’ll sink beneath the milky mist of frost

This is why as Penguins we stand and remain together at any cost

This is how we outlast the land

And take the whip from out its hand

And if you’re different and don’t fit in

There is no place for you to go

It is stand still and shiver, or follow the ice floe

And that is where I must go now

To find and follow the black and white cow

Of sacred Penguinness

To find the route and heart of true Guinness

I set off, my feet a waddle

Away from the manger and my mother’s swaddle

Away from whiteness and the Penguin din

Into the quietness of the never ending

Away to where the fresh gull flew

And the bonds of heaven know no curfew

Where days turn markedly into night

Bees are swarming and the river’s bright

Trees grow green an seaweed rustles

Hawks now seen above grass’s tussle

I’ve reached the great Reindeer plains

Of Northern Canada, full of aches and pains

See the constellation of Andromeda

She chases the bull with bow and arrow

And I think when my belly was full

But my world was so narrow

And on I walk turning to skin and bone

I must find fish soon or die alone

I must meet a fellow traveller

To aid me in my quest

And that is the flame that keeps me burning

To find the sacred Penguinness

I walk to where the Salmon sing

And the Grizzly bear’s roar in the mountains ring

To where the Eagles fly to their nest

And on I push on what is my quest

The road is hard, the shore like rubble

Cuts my feet and spells out trouble

I stagger down into a cave

And place my life in God’s hands to save

Soon after one or two days

A wandering Caribou comes to its mouth and neighs

Licks my face, nudges my side

And with God’s grace I with him abide

As he carries me across wide plain

I stare up to the stars again

And feel sure I see there a glass like shape

Pouring a starry substance into Orion’s nape

The Caribou drops me after he has drunk

Of the fresh waters of Lake Michigan where his hooves had sunk

Exhausted he lies down to take his rest

I thank him climb off and continue my quest

Now I near the Autumnal East coast

It seems to me a marvel of colours its beauty to boast

I find I must board upon a transatlantic boat

The island of Nantucket, with the tough whalers seen

Was where I first journeyed beyond Virginia’s green

There I found an Irish whale ship

Ready to return from a worldwide skip

Back to the emerald shores of Ireland

Back to the Penguin’s heart land