only one more
summons birds at dawn,
bedpans roll in the palm
of his other hand.
He wants more luminous rain,
more potent grass.
The second death came that dawn,
gulls and crows called into the light
just before rain and wind
left night to prowl elsewhere.
Early birches, charged and soaked
by the edge of more rain,
told a different story,
unfurling green flags in a distant war
with mongrels and squatters.
Distant bankers are squeezed
far into a burning dessert
where parched scorpion lips
bleed beneath a harsh crescent.
Migratory whispers
around lakes, in trees and high above,
herald thunder with beady eyes.
The shaman's shoes has gone
with the brooding light.
The passing of dreams
rolls over wet grass.
There is a no more in all
wonderfully cloaked
can pack into embraced.
Poetry by Bob
Read 555 times
Written on 2015-12-13 at 21:29
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A Stab in the dark 15
The old sorcerersummons birds at dawn,
bedpans roll in the palm
of his other hand.
He wants more luminous rain,
more potent grass.
The second death came that dawn,
gulls and crows called into the light
just before rain and wind
left night to prowl elsewhere.
Early birches, charged and soaked
by the edge of more rain,
told a different story,
unfurling green flags in a distant war
with mongrels and squatters.
Distant bankers are squeezed
far into a burning dessert
where parched scorpion lips
bleed beneath a harsh crescent.
Migratory whispers
around lakes, in trees and high above,
herald thunder with beady eyes.
The shaman's shoes has gone
with the brooding light.
The passing of dreams
rolls over wet grass.
There is a no more in all
wonderfully cloaked
can pack into embraced.
Poetry by Bob
Read 555 times
Written on 2015-12-13 at 21:29
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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one trick pony |
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 by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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