Poetry

When the World Echoes

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When the world echoes in one ear
out the other runs a voice
in a flapper dress.
You have no choice to put on a show. Offs
any notion of peace.
And when they say, just carry on, the voice
runs a marathon of laughter.

It says in a whisper haunting each step,
You’re an ant on a boot which walks the Milky Way.
Remember that when you think you’re okay.
You try to scream for the red stop light.
But voice careens into your mind,
metallic bits of self. Scatter, clatter, fall.
Bounce once. Bounce twice.
And they say, just carry on.
We don’t see any blood.

So you carry on, because the blood’s in your head.
Always there, dripping.
but outside you aren’t slipping.
It stays in your cave.
Stalactites and stalagmites in mind.
Waiting to spear you thrice the next time
you fail at life.

When the world echoes in one ear
out the other runs a voice
in a flapper dress.
Your legs are not yet chopped. Don’t be weak.
Says the voice. The lights are up, the music started.
Just carry on.
Just carry on shouting to silence.
You’re only an echo.
Poetry

A Dervish of Moonbeams

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If you
want for light

for
day for night.

If you
wish for land

for
sea for sand.

Sink
feet deep.

Let
snow hug you

to
sleep.

In
this dark and cold embrace.

When
all stars are erased.

Find
futures inside fire.

Where
for light for day

for
night, for all conspire.

To
bring together a last daydream,

a dervish in deep moonbeams.
Poetry

There Was a Box with Time Inside: A Poem

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box time squid graphic art poem poetry ARR Moony magic Hamlet Shakespeare wonder thoughts musing history society

There was a Box with Time Inside

If time walked among us

it would swim the shape

of a penny paper squid. Legs inked out

for terrible eternity.

 

Nothing worse than living in a box with a squid.

Says language which draws obscurity

to describe a box of time.

 

If time lived in a box

it would swim in the shape

of a penny paper squid. Legs inked around

for terrible eternity.
Poetry

Rumbles the Rain

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Silence meditates in the skeleton city

A place where metal mountains

grasp for an iron sky

Only to crumble. Crushed by the dome

of earth which rumbles, rattles

and shudders away all that sings green.

A rain falls and makes white noise

of the spaces between. I dart

from cover. To cover, coat hissing.

In this place where acid cascades from the stars

styled as sheet music printed in fades.

Shades of colour fill the deep breath of silence.

Inside the pauses, I am hugged by silver bones.

I don’t feel so alone.
Poetry

As the Morning Rises We Reflect upon Summer: A Poem for the Seasons

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Summer Reflections

Summer
mornings rise

deep from a
pile of pillows.

The sun
blinks awake over fields of cherry trees

which
travel up waves of grass to mountain tops.

We shout
to clouds, our echoes dance with tumbleweeds.

On and up
til sky meets lake, meets blue mountains beyond.

Summer
twilight’s fill with firefly secrets

whispered
between the sparks of bonfire

catching
the stars. As we dive among them,

reflected
over black lakes. We float.

Counting
constellations and comet showers.

Maybe
we’ll catch the chasse-galerie tonight.

Summer
days taste of ripe peaches and sawdust.

New
projects began while lettuce leaves reach out.

We hike
with necks stretched, never quite spying the tops

of trees
while the bees buzz among our potluck below.

Summer lives in the music of stories remembered

for long
winter’s nights. To keep the future warm.

To make
hope, old, now newborn.

With
hands grasped, together we make dreams.