Silence
rings hollow
explosive
in the crisped hush
whispered in our –
blushing ears
–
Crushing crescendo
a round of –
applause
clapping against windows
in between
muted secrecy
Author’s Note:
This is written for W3
poem
We Are Algorithm
Exiled to the babbling snake pit
ghostly sparrows wings
brush our hands
embroiled in this rage machine
praying for bark with no bite.
If history was rehearsal
now the audience is algamated
Dr Algorithm’s mutants
and just as the monster became Frankenstien
we are become Algorithm.
Exercising my writing muscles to get back into the flow
Using words of the day for inspiration the following was written
If only I could succumb
to the lagom of swirling leaves
be as free as that which glides effortless to sleepy death where hollows don’t know their depth
where no words drew abyss
into which to peer
For the endless dark matters none here
It just is, it just is, my dear
Whispers the crunch of leaves under feet of deer
Sunday wordle: as yet remains untitled
We will be demolished in good time
no matter how eager we shout from our chests
we will turn where we are left to lie
Left to age again one more time
I am afraid, with much doubt there will be no stepping into white light
Those tales of afterlife, immortality will have been the biggest scams of our lives
So with all that said, this is the one life we know ourselves to have
And our legacy? Well, that’s not up to us to write
its all written in another’s mind
Depressions Shadow Always Follows
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
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.
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.
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