Shimmering cats-eyes in my rear view
This road superimposed
in the void perched in encroaching whispers
my heart beats the ghosts
shedding you, this
Flowers at the side of the road in memorandum
Noting every absence
And to the edges of me
Is my shadow
A creature of deplorable emptiness
Swerving these rounded bends
Up and down these silent knolls
On the brink, it all hits again
That jolt that churns the stomach
The strings that stir the tears
And in my blurred vision
Its all just sparks and mirrors
Reading mirth in my skeletal passenger
As we reach the point of collision
Poetry
Flutters Dance
Behind our eyes a mirror of voices
A chorus behind our stories and choices
Time spans a butterflies wings
weaving tapestries, blinked
our roots, doors unhinged
today’s present was never prophecy
but by flutters dance we are here
on the tail end of of butterfly prayer
Grimple Shrugged
Mr Grimple displayed pavonine flair
Feeling himself a favonian wind
Luck was in the air
So with umbrella to hook
He clung from the clouds
And when Betty looked up, boy did she cluck!
‘What the hell are you doin’ up there?’
All while she fluffed up her hair.
‘I’m bearing the lightness of being’ Said Mr Grimple and with one big shrug, lifted burdensome boulders
Upon the knolls of his shoulders.
The grind
We were twine o’ thread knottin’ time
bent us snaggle toothed spines needlin’ at the grind
We were fusty with British stiff upper lip
with sabre toothed vanity, mining us extraterrestrial in coal an’ lime needlin’ at the grind
We dreamed o’ greenin’ the land
cigarettes chained to us ‘ands needlin’ at the grind
We erased that which we wished to glimpse
In a trailblaze of exhaust fumes, steerin’ the grind
We extolled the land by mouth
And demarcated it with the other ‘and steelin’ uselve’s fer the grind
An attempt at this week’s W3
Prayer o’ land
A familiar shape
In prayer o’ land
Where the butterflies fritter
ying & yang
Siren Song
It beckons us back
with treacled sunrise
just one swim, the siren song sings
hermetically sealed in our ears
crashing cymbals, these waves
these waters know our skin
and all the souvenirs it comes with.
Carillon silence
Our shadows dislimn the land we extol
Bottle necked exhalations shrugged us up from our holes
to witness the passing shape of our lungs
as we sprung from gunpoint
And do dead daisies push up their brothers too?
In the silent spring of our futures
A carillon tolled silence.
Jack outta his box
A magniloquent wind up bastard
Chartaceous, a wasps nest
Verbose on’t tongue
Clockwork brain with rusted gyral
Death rattles us on tickin’ tocks downward spiral
Did I mention I’m certified unhinged
A wheel short o’ a penny farthin’
Aye, it’s true but thee can’t put me back in’t box
Cuz I upped an’ sprung
Jack sprung from ‘ere
Sunflower night
Sunflowers push through whack-a-mole ‘oles
In’t night sky
Golden flowered stars blurred by eyes
An airscape t’ feast time
Puffs o’ cloud scryin’ t’morrows sunrise
Droopin’ petals. rainin’ golden blossom.
Inspired by prompt
Also inspired by Van Gogh paintings, where I mixed up ideas from two of his paintings in my head to write this.
Maybe you can guess which ones?
Limmerence
fuchsia veils, flamingo hushed
Clematis that don’t care fer seasons blushed
we danced infatuation lust
till we went limp like foxgloves
Scarlet buds awaited us bloom
tobacco, wood and musk
smells of yorn in which I crushed
creasin’ silken streams
comin’ lose at the seams
Abashed in thrall
fallin’ as leaves meant to fall
fallin’, fallin’
tottering at the peak of flush
crawlin’, forestallin’
A scorpion romance bawlin’
red in black maw squallin’
liminal space gallin’
silence after storms rushed
solstitial distance between us
fallin’ fallin’
The loneliness of limerence, hushed
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 