Discord Descort

September 29, 2018 at 7:54 am (Poems) (, , , , )

When nothing sits pretty; all thoughts in disarray
angry clouds alter barometers.
I am a fishcake, plucked from your plastic sea
You hold me remotely and nevertheless I dance for you.

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Lily

March 16, 2013 at 5:53 pm (literature, philosophy, Poems, poetry, sociology, Stories) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )

From this stricken bridge, our pickled Lily
is a ragged and a snarling twig
stuck fast between grey stones.
Whilst all around
cross Eddies feud and weave,
she brooks her gall, suspended.
.
Who knows, should snagged forgiveness
truly rip and run again,
the river, reprieved, may turn to smile,
and Lily’s spoiled white lips
would twist and split: a pretty boat.
.
Her veil, pulled low to save that petalled face,
could raise into a hopeful sail
and pistilled spirit bend and dip
to fast row Lily, blemished but aglow,
to steep her days without bondage and regret
in turbulent regatta.

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