Tag Archives: poem

Interference

Cold cumulus, on tenterhooks
Restless, wrapped up,
Toothache, decay.

Tired, too tired,
Unheard of,
Snowfall silence,
Slumped against the easil,
Frozen at the window sill.

Stick stone elm,
Evening slide,
Only just beginning,
Witnessing an ending,
Staring, timid at the time.

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The Black Storm

This is the black storm,
Frozen toes, radiator creaks,
Howling at the window,

This is the black storm,
Kettle drum bins tossed down empty streets,
A restless head upon the pillow,

This is the black storm,
Stone cold raindrops, ticking clock,
Lost sleep and hours borrowed,

This is the black storm.
Spinning night, rotting wood.
No sign of our tomorrow.

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Evenfall

 

Open doors, carol street choir,Tire lines in dusty snow,
Vanishing smoke line, Heat pouring into the night.

Rocking horse, creaking boards,
Break the silent night.

Wrapped up in morning darkness,
Delivered in a duvet, tucked in too tight,
Four o’clock sunset, pine needles tingling,
Eggnog candlesticks, butterscotch light.

Seatsalted timber, inglenook crackle,
Teapot cottages, roasting lumber in the late afternoon freeze,
Leaves, crisp, sweep the lane,
Floating away upon the brook, Root washed and bubbling.

Stodgy pasteurised footsteps,
Ice crunch puddle,
Cow-pat thickets,
Soft, sharp steam.

Slow sinking winter sun,Melts against the frosty pane of sky,
Swept up in cirruss, spun down to the ocean,
Chalk white, the fizzing roaring sea.

 

 

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Remember Remember

A firework sparks to shatter the crinkled sky,
Gunfire in the valley.

A sparkler’s ember in the wet bog lies,
The landmine waits endlessly.

Explosions echo in the emptiness of night,
Old homes, evacuated buildings.

Faces of amazement, lit up like fireflies,
Heads bloodied with machetes.

Dogs barking running from the dancing fire,
Children hiding from murdered mothers.

Night’s silence marking the end of the day,
Days ending marking a night of blood thirst.

Today’s the day we celebrate,
Tonight we fear for tomorrow.

Tonight effigies are burnt and heroes made,
Tomorrow is filled with sorrow.

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Gaviota

Billowing breeze hits the tumbling sea,

Rainbow mist, Pacific wave,

Breaking the lost blue into a spectrum, spun by the ocean.

 –

Swallows dip and dive in the headwind,

Salmon in their ocean stream.

Sundowners strike up the ash,

Dust devils dance from the fire,

Embers purr beneath the breeze.

 –

Trees twisted into the sunset,

The Amtrak clatters up the line,

Stars and stripes wrapped into each other,

A seagull soars,

I close my eyes.

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Filament

Filament

Bright lights, dry dark heat,

A whirlwind of grand destination,

That can’t keep the rush of night at bay.

~

Move again, shake,

Open retina, idle brain,

Holding secrets of which the heart intrudes,

In pixels, signals, intangible,

Pylon currents running to the horizon.

~

To sit beside the canyon,

Of depth and thrilling falls,

Whose eddies roll into oblivion,

Like the spinning roulette ball.

~

Rolling circles, open eyes, crying in the wind,

Rocket shell, burning bloodshot dawn,

Dustbowl blue jeans,

Red cross painted on the locked front door.

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Travel Sickness

City summer heat, bedbug dreams, stuffy street lamp nights,

Spinning visions of how big the world seemed to be,

When she was just a few hours from flight.

No idea of the things we could be, twisting hopes of careless might.

A vision of the world we see, feet sinking in the sodden tide.

 ~

Something beautiful in the sadness,

Last night’s news blowing down tube lines,

When all believe god is on their side,

Drunk on self-righteousness,

Puffed out on a pyrrhic sense of pride.

 ~

Calculate the cost of distance,

The red eyed loss of time, sitting in an uncomfortable airline chair,

Looking what you were trying to find.

 ~

Lost in the leaving,

a face we’ll recognise,

A decision to regret, that sits inside us now forever

Lost in the present tense, living in memory,

Getting darker with ebbing time.

 ~

Go turn away, your frosty eye,

Last leaving words said, ‘We could all die tonight’

Or wake to find our melodramas flying down the streets,

So turn again to ask what we should do?

Too late to come back to those we once knew,

Their manic day now turned to star-filled pensive night.

….

Words by me – image by Sophie

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