Crowd surfing above your peers
You're a discarded pair of angel wings
Whose raised veins reveal
Through pastel washes of seaweed green
Sun lit geometries of cathedrals
After supper, the resistance of bone
Beyond sweat soaked skin.
Greased with Piddock trails and wine
Our mouths slide over our lips
And we both fell into the night time
Stopping to kiss and grope
Leaving our food stained handprints
Glowing, like stars on warm walls
Our constellation followed us home
Where our bed cushioned our fall
Later, our hands and mouth
Too busy to leave clear impressions
Left a light show of love making
Left the flesh of the shell
So the minerals could return to surfing.
Tag: The Sea
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Ode to the Piddock
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To be blessed said the Dog
Still playing catch up!
The Blessing of the Old Woman, the Tulip, and the Dog , a glorious poem to be inspired by, thank you Alicia Ostriker. My contribution below concerns more than three components. Is that a tedious enough link? Yessss! I should just concentrate on writing more poems.
Day Five – In threes!
Hair Cuts
The waves are jostling in a gale
In a race to rise they collect themselves
Those that match each others speed and direction
Leave shallow traces.
Others push with equal force from opposing sides.
Using the bounce from the shore,
They greet the rolls of the tide.
Surging skywards forming blades of light.
Only to have their transparent crests dulled
Blown into white blossoms and lace spikes.
Fingers of dreadlocked foam
Curtains, bobs and crew tops.
Water, bouncy, brushed and combed.
And the waves that have dodged the style makers?
They hustle at the base of the curves
Collecting themselves
Waiting to be seen and heard.
My Fairground 