Perhaps

Perhaps we just saw
a glimpse of summer,
the smell of woodsmoke
and the clouds that
rent across your eye;
why did it turn to rain?
When did the market seller
throw down his cigarette
and swear, as guts from
the trays were swilled
into the drain.

Bad teeth and halitosis
and the choke that built
an exploding furnace,
in every step and every move
we watch the drunks
skulking in doorways,
you see them crying
on a Sunday
and women in smart
floral skirts, waving
bags filled with hirsute wishes.

Perhaps it was just an illusion,
I thought it true, just briefly,
I suppose, it is only a game
we're so good at fooling ourselves,
you see it in those lines
the ones where lips pinch
and you sucker the punches
in a reminiscent grimace,
I think it was only a glimpse,
lets face it, summer has been
a wash out, just leaving
little toes, etching into
sand shoes and following prints;
it's a long way to walk to the sea.




Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 654 times
Written on 2012-08-30 at 20:49

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


Hans Bump
This is creative writing!
Some of the wonderful lines are branded in my head : "clouds that rent across your eye" " the choke that built an exploding furnace" you sucker the punches
in a reminiscent grimace"...... and others
great poem. thanks for the gift.
2012-08-31


ngaio Beck
An occult sadness. Hirsute wishes? Conjures a panoply of thought. Welldone.
2012-08-31