Category Archives: Octain

Caves

Cave
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

We close our eyes and kiss in caves,
seek refuge in the ‘you and me’ –
asylum from the dervish sea.
 

Swept swift and beached by brutal waves,
broken, shattered, pieces scattered,
and all the while Plath’s Mad Girl raves.
 

Hush, hideaway so none can see
we close our eyes and kiss in caves.
 
 

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Filed under Octain, Poetry

The Blacksmith


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Un Forgeron (A Blacksmith) ~ 1833 ~ Eugène Delacroix
 

Still trading on past vanities;
cursing cold-forged molten shackles
wrapped around fresh firescaled ankles,
 

left limping toward posterity.
Adorned, admired, yet brain cross-wired,
mouth mired in mulched profanity.
 

Climactic rise of peers rankles;
flame fading on past vanities.
 
 

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Blodeuwedd


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Oak blossom, broom and meadowsweet,
magicians’ conjured ‘flower face’
that tricked the tynged, stood in place
 

of mortal wife, would spawn deceit.
Sated beauty, castigated,
bloom shackled to nocturnal cleat,
 

her tawny-feathered fall from grace
reviled across the meadow sweet.
 
 

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The Lady of Shallot


 

A curse to see the world in metaphor?
Ripe shoots that claw their way from molten womb,
unfurling from the crumbled, peaty gloom
 

and ushering bi-lingual semaphore.
Hard facts harangue A. fistulosum’s tang,
pale membranes peel, reveal a juicy core.
 

As Allium lays waste to mordant Rheum
our verse soars from the vaults; sweet metaphor.
 
 
 

~ My apologies to Messrs Tennyson, Waterhouse and Prater. Tennyson and Waterhouse for nicking the title of their poem/painting (albeit mis-spelt) and Prater for bastardising his Octain – I’m calling it a Dectain on account of each line having ten syllables instead of eight.

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Lucy 25


 

buttery soft lemon-light skies
scorching cerebral subdivide
white-knuckle narc on cornflake ride
 

ecstacy comes in liquid guise
star half-hitched to the acid bitch
synesthetically polarised
 

slip-sliding on the Lyserglide
buttery soft lemon-light skies
 
 

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Lignum Vitae


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Through hollow Lignum Vitae drones
returns the far-flung Fisher King,
the distant toll, a wraith-like ring.
 

The scrape and scraw of salt-bleached bones
thread bellowed groans through dry reed beds
as brass ferrules chant monotones.
 

Come dusk I hear the kelpie sing
through hollow Lignum Vitae drones.
 
 
 
 

~ Lignum Vitae is a very strong durable wood that is used in ship building. It is also used to make the drones of Northumbrian pipes, which are similar to Scottish bagpipes.
 
 

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Chamber Music


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Blithe metronomic music box,
soft strains propelled by pulse beneath,
spring-driven motor rotates teeth,
 

steel pin-encrypted comb unlocks.
In time the rime-encrusted chimes
scrape, grate and grind the cogent cogs;
 

stalled core harmonic slips its sheath,
its metronomic music boxed.
 
 

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Sink


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Lip-synching to a life half-lived;
cold maelstrom meals, slim doldrum days,
citalopram-clad drum roll haze.
 

In bowls of broken glass slop-sieved,
pus-puckered mouth too sore to pour
lips’ ink into a life half-lived.
 

Tongue lolls in shrunken gum malaise,
lips sink into a life half-lived.
 
 

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Dash


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The answer is not 42.
Obsessive, number-counting fools
observing dates, constricting rules,
 

a formulaic plan askew.
Lifespan siphoned round the hyphen,
dolorous daily déjà vu.
 

Full fill the gap with emprise jewels –
the answer is not 42.
 

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Handle With Care

This supplesoft pink tingling sheath,
slith-ribboned by a blade of light,
that buttermelts with every bite,
 

lays bare its joy before your teeth.
Pink pelt belies a deft disguise
that hides the sculpted ore beneath;
 

take care when choosing to ignite
this supplesoft pink tingling sheath.
 
 

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Filed under Free Verse, Octain