Posted: November 20, 2013 in default
At http://poetryjaam.blogspot.co.uk/ we are prompted to write about lightning ~ let’s go surfing in the sky!
Here they come.
Just beginning to seep in at the edges.
Spoilers of a cerulean canvas that has lain bare
Clouds staining autumn’s sky,
ink flooding in from one corner.
Not flaky snowy puff balls,
but vanguards of a blue-grey
Unruly. Cresting the ridge.
It’s time to go. At last.
Being grounded for so long has made me edgy.
a twisting flick of the ankles and I’m up.
Catching those leading smoky tendrils
creeping into the valley.
Now I flow above the river,
matching its twists and turns
Then cutting back into the storm heart
I pick out a thunderhead.
Ride this boiling wildling.
It roars at the retreating sun.
That’s the signal.
A symphony of anger unleashed.
Booming and pounding roils through the sky.
The perfect moment is coming.
Static crackles around me.
Flickering. Power surging.
And there it is. In a flash
I ride a bright sabre as it jags clear
to connect storm and earth.
Posted: October 18, 2013 in nature poems
It’s Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday http://kellieelmore.com/2013/10/18/fwf-free-write-friday-image-prompt-with-guest-host-mark-schutter/ and todays prompt is this photo of an October Hunter’s Moon (also known as a Blood moon), taken in Paris.
Eclipsing stars and the dust of galaxies,
this blood-soaked globe hangs there,
a Cyclops with its black-veined edges.
It pierces the raven night, pinning
down summer’s last throw of the dice.
Daring woodlands to drift through madrugada
and into a new day without surrendering
to autumnal pressure. Under this intense
bloody glare the courage of trees fail,
they bleed chlorophyll into the ground
and as the sun rises their leaves
reflect back that pale yellow stare.
Posted: October 17, 2013 in thought stream, urban poems
This poem is so far out on the edge, it’s practically gone over it! Tonight at dVerse we’re tackling the Beat Generation. That culture of the late Fifties revolved around rejection of received standards, experimentation in drugs and alternative sexuality and rejection of materialism among other things. It was a powerful force for liberalisation that spawned non-conformity and spontaneous creativity among writers, poets and artists. Go and check us out to see what we’re up to!
Up there, beyond this detritus embracing us, stars wink on.
Planets, moons, suns feel the gravitational suck of each other and
this universal whirr and click is shot through with a nebula that blooms
like flooding paint in your eyes. A thousand dyes of reds and yellows
punctured by meteors that rocket through your vision completely blinding you.
Just this solar kaleidoscope filling your brain as you fold up the pain,
and lock it away. So while you drift in your own personal space,
bankers in counting houses,
the regiments of hawks,
those greeders and feeders,
I put both hands to my temple
and through finger tips feel the rhythmic
beat of the heart in my head. It’s the
pulse of all thoughts searching for words.
Those shapers of style,
the sowers of fear (this will give you cancer, that will shorten your life),
the sowers of hope (buy this and you’ll look that thin, do this and you’ll live forever),
all those who try to control
get swallowed up into that black hole created by the force
of your indifference. Later back in the coffee shop at our favourite table
we sit once again and waste everyone else’s day watching their worlds go by.
Posted: October 16, 2013 in nature poems, urban poems
Speaking words of woods, valleys and
moors over the weir, I watch
as these images are washed away
to some distant ocean.
Posted: September 27, 2013 in Poetry
This is a recording from the 10Radio programme Talking Books when Suzie Grogan invited me to read my work and requests from her listeners. It was wonderful fun.
You can check out Suzie’s blog here http://nowrigglingoutofwriting.wordpress.com/
Posted: September 26, 2013 in Poetry, urban poems
In this semi-silence,
a world of whispers and distant thrumming
tries to seep in.
But my ear’s not open for business.
It isn’t just outside either,
there’s all that internal static and rumble.
No out, no in.
Meeting a solid barrier,
sound beats against the drum.
Rebounds, thunders round
and rebounds again.
This is the constant rhythm rolling
on a shore rebuking all waves
until they’re left seeking another listening post.
Posted: September 14, 2013 in nature poems
Tonight we are gathering at dVerse pub for poets and having fun writing poems from sayings we’ve heard … this is based on that proverb: ‘A leopard can’t change its spots’
Sunlight slices through leaves.
Primaeval amber eyes trapped
unblinking in a spotlight.
Instinct welded into their depths.
The hunter pads softly on,
soundlessly brushing undergrowth.
Head, legs and flanks tiger-striped
as it lopes through light and shade.
Flickering colours, creating
a bow wave of fear for sharp eyes.
Panting reveals its red maw
like some raw slash from
claws on a victim’s rump.
Light and shade,
stripes and shadow.
Emerging into scrubland,
camouflage stripped away,
bared in the dust.