Fly

jay
jumping,
crow
calling,
rook
railing,
twig
snapping
fly
sparrow
singing
robin
ringing
cat
calling
fly,
fly,
fly

The Motive Motif

what potent draught of magic
or scientific brew
Hydes me from my daily cause
and turns my thoughts anew
to bend ideas from that to this
and fix them fast in time
from psyche slipped upon the page
then twisted round to rhyme.

The Chandler (a short fiction as prose)

he thought
“we are less than candles”
their flames may flicker
and be extinguished
in the illest wind
yet with each new flame
the live to burn anew
to face future storms

Going To Buy A Pillowcase

on my way to all too near
to drink the morning sun
I think I’ll ride the omnibus
if a nice one comes along
and if not I’ll toddle there
skipping o’er the pavement cracks
to avoid the dreaded pauliegogs
and the scattered carpet tacks;
once I land in all too near
I’ll be sure to let you know
just how the saga did unfold
but for now I better go.

5-7-5 (take two-hundred-and-thirty-nine : shadows)

the shadow bleeds black
blood seeping across the floor
darkness scarring light

Red Hot Poker

In his chair the devil sits
gambling on my soul
he hopes to play his cards right
before I get too old
but what he doesn’t count on
in that seat of his in hell
is I know that he is bluffing
raised eyebrows are his tell.

5-7-5 (take two-hundred-and-thirty-eight : weather report)

there’s storm clouds again
and the lanterns are swinging
fireflies in the dusk

Mirage

I saw Johnny on a camel
but the camel?
it was just a teddy bear
so it wouldn’t help a diddle
in the desert
unless there was a cuddle
needed there.

And Johnny Boy was looking at Medicis
or other fine garbed people
from the past
though in their eyes my reflection
was a mirage
which only for a moment quickly flashed.

Hedgehog Principle

this started as a hedgehog in my head
all curled up small and round
until I startled it…
instead
and then it began unravelling
crawling spines inside my brain
and this idea hibernating
will never sleep again.

The Great Victorians (partial and unfinished and possibly upside down)

blessed be the folly builders
each and every one
for they left just nonsense
‘fore the setting of their suns
and curse the proud industrialists
their mills of brick and steel
which blighted our Jerusalem
and ground souls on the wheel
in dark wood panel drawing rooms
their portraits Sunday fine
fool us with perceived hegemony
that deny their bottom line
basked in faux philanthropy
charitable hypocrisies
their centuries old legacies…

no idea where I’m going from here