Monthly Archives: February 2011

Wed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No altar, no rose-scented petalled bed,

no morning suit-grey waiting to be wed.


No priest, no vows, save those we’ve mined and spun;
soft Clogau truths exchanged by candlelight.
This stolen time, as we outrun the sun,
permits us to perform this ancient rite.


A simple room, this bless’ed bridal suite,
commune, cocoon, until the morning light.
White wedding gown, a simple cotton sheet,
sweet affirmations, raptured we unite.


Our altar, this sex-scented metal bed,
we sing our Hallelujahs and are wed.

 

 

 

~ Clogau gold (pronounced Clog – I) is rare Welsh Gold from the Clogau gold mine in the mountains of Snowdonia.

 


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Opiate

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Days since we spoke, since we smoked molten words,

watched their smouldering tips as we sat in the dark
at opposite ends of a warm thought.


Breath blowing through shadows, chain smoking
through a packet of paper-rolled emotions,
savouring distilled tincture with tongues.


Tonight, we will sit in the dark again and commune;
we will cup our hands and light up,
watchful not to let the words burn down too quickly,
leaving our eyes bleary and our lips blistered.

 

 

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The Cellist

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He watches her from the wings, house lights down;

hush, not a sound. It starts; quietly, slowly, gently,
her eyes closed, her breath even.


She sways, slightly; the soft rhythm meandering
through her slender frame. Slim, nimble fingers
slideglideguide his gaze to the heart of the vibrato.


Pulling his eyes back to her own, she holds him.
Holds him. Holds him. Finding perfect resonance,
her head thrown back – building building building;


the crescendo climbing, existing, resisting.
Trembling tremolo trill, momentary dalliance with adagio.

 


Fermata;
soft still silence

 


breathless
accelerando accelerando accelerando

 

 

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The Art of Knowing

Splinter within her that filters the truth
serves to remind her of all that is lost and will
leave her bereft and alone on the roof.


Sick now of dealing with moments aloof;
taking the step that unveils his deceit instills
splinters within her that filter the truth.


Watchful she follows a hunch on the hoof;
filling the cat with a poison that’s sure to kill
leaves her bereft and alone on the roof.


Rips through her mind and lets loose inner sleuth;
secret she finds, it reverses the sleeping pill –
splinters within her and filters the truth.


Years of duplicity swallow her youth,
agony lies in a future she can’t fulfill;
leaves her bereft and alone on the roof.


Act of accepting the burden of proof;
epistemology gives her that twisted thrill.
Splinter within her that filters the truth
leaves her bereft and alone on the roof.

 

 

 


~ This is a villanelle written in dactylic tetrameter (dactyl is stress-unstress-unstress), a-rhymes (truth/roof etc) are minus the two last unstressed syllables, ie masculine rhyme in a normally feminine-rhyming meter.   


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Filed under Villanelle

crawl space

woke up small
crawled
across the splintered floor


almost made it
to the solid oak door


climbed the chest

gasping
spent the day in a drawer


dark dusty corner
let myself fall

 


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