Faded, Yellow cracked render wall
Tangerine lemon scented buds
grace the air not held
by vase at all
Non-descript gentle, waving
collecting micro droplets glisten
stems and foliage reach out
Diving into bark encrusted,
vital dark earthy brown
soil a pool of earth is dusted
There it is, the potted Lemon tree
a mini inquisitive Yoda
picture frozen in a gallery
Parts of you are made with the iron hammers of battle, wrought in twisting matrices of steel history – might and wrath set in your metallic form – old memories expressed
Cylinders hammering with the determined grit of sailors heaving oak through crashing waves, christened with the morning mist, ploughing through the air like a glimmering mace held high
Your many tiered grills glare like unwinking soldiers eyes from under studded helmets – spokes and baffles, pegs and riveted plate – sturdy armour that greets the baleful gravel foe
Smashing like spiked fists to stone walls and doors, splintering the glittering spears arrayed, slicing through layers of determined defence you swoop with leather saddled might
Arching, swerving, storming, thundering – you call on ancient powers and hold within heat hardened cauldrons, insatiable demands
time and weather have cut through your splendor – tracks
are winding their way through like the many fingered hands of your Gums;
their capped, green swelling buds swaying in gentle rhythm…
like those fire cracker moments they explode into colour – a rainbow feast.
These graded trails offer treasures to the senses for the traveller –
a hidden water fall, a sudden vista or just the comforting crunch of foot (fall.)
There it is! lying on the bush trail – now a memory, nobbly fingers (pointing)
to the throbbing life that was – wise wizened, gnarled and ruddy the fallen
junctures hold a map to lost treasure just like the many paths now here.
She thinks like morning multi-vs and cuts through the confusion.
He turns the newspapers pages and checkmates the weather.
Coffee machine punctuates the cutlery clutter
… each new service bringing with it delicious smells
– – their eyes link – – –
swirling, deep, still – pools over the cacophony.
Hulking battleships glide across the stary night sky
scanning, searching – grid by grid the planets arrayed in their paths …
Heros in trouble explode through steaming, rusting hulks
– into chasms that reflect saber slash and phaser blast –
we are in a dark room with dust swirling in cinematic lighting, exploring the depths of your mind..
Waters deliciously cool cross-section buffets and slaps,
legs anchored softly in sandbank.
The same sweet silver stream bubbles around sore ankles
– rocky mountain brook.
Excited yelps echoe and cut through the thick fuzzy barked tree trunks
– shadowing exultant green, straining translucent shoots!
We are now out, free in the breeze, toes dabbling in your minds cooler currents …
Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God.
just vacated – swinging door still slamming backwards and forwards another cascaded, lonely, soul wrenching, blank dead end!
the trail leads like a waterfall to the inevitable, frustratingly hopeless, unsatisfactory conclusion…
the joker escapes.
Like a feeling you can’t describe, a presence you can’t pin down – his ghastly pale face and pointed red snarling smile will haunt your waking mind …
the joker escapes!
Strick n’ honed, sharp & chrome
Like a stone.. In yr boots!
Distracted glare, shifting there
Like little torches.. flashing
Pools on ground, crucible sound
Like volcanic.. melting
Dropping gems, like treasured glens
In the wood…waiting