whitesmoke vapours
slither from a silver exhaust
drifting crystals churn
to a distant wind chime tune
secret fireflies dance
in a maelstrom of moonrain
gardens sparkle in champagne
while rent ghosts roam
dazzled by periwinkles
fractured on bisque pots
cutout whisper motes
float in between
mint and lady bugs
mutant thoughts
spawn
the air is dank
blood heat
tepid adjectives
hang
without
a subject …
the object sits
tongue hanging out
cooling the breath
the only action
while nothing fills
the spaces between
every thing
every cell
and there I shall
meet you.
and we shall be
one mutant thought …
Plenty more poetry over at dVersePoets
between words
lurk
unspoken thoughts
between
his stutters
a world
between
the flowers
flight paths
between mosquito
contrails
irritation
between
the toes
fields of wonder
between
two hearts
joie de vivre
between
two hands
creation claps
A reflection on what it means to be at Millstream Pond in the Millstream Chichester National Part in Yindjibarndi Country in the Pilbara.
You can watch the video poem here
Candle flickers
against the creeping night,
soft snores, only me awake.
A blessed peace enfolds me,
my thoughts roam
forests of possibilities
and forking paths,
moonbeams guide
my steps through
chance and necessity
to the cave where
I await midnight peels
of the church bell.
A blue cat appears,
taps my nose
with a velvet pad,
looks deep into my eyes
and smiles.
We watch the clouds
cross the face of the moon
together.
The bell rings
twelve times.
I stand
in a dome
veined monochrome
against darkening blue.
Puddled sepia mirrors
on a muddy track
by my feet
saturation.
I watch
seconds slide
on rolling hills
shadows creep
from lonely trees.
A thin red line
marks the edge
of a new day
over there,
here stars break
through
time runs still.
Rosamunda unfurls her wings,
sniffs the summer moonlight
dancing with the ocean waves
pulling on earth’s even breath,
she stretches her spine,
sensuously, opening each pore,
breathing the wind in pink
transparent flames.
She soars above the geese
migrating, smiling down
at human habitations,
starry constellations below
then senses a girl child
sketching a rose glitter dragon.
Rosamunda gathers
the beads of the signal
as she swoops through
silver marshmallow clouds,
catching the little girl’s feelings
holding them close,
moonwalks and leaping
from star to star;
magic carpet rides together
to enchanting places like Venice.
The rose dragon frowns in dismay,
tears gently roll down
the little girl’s cheeks
splashing the colours she draws.
Rosamunda makes haste,
hones in on the tears, sees
a scene in the playground,
and unkind words
on a smart phone screen;
she will give the bullies
something to fear,
with flames from her nostrils
that can turn bullies to ashes.
This poem has been entered into the Annual M.R. Mathias Dragon Poetry Competition
Fire fox merrily skips beneath the night
seeking emeralds in a pool of blue,
bowing deeply to streaming water sprites,
paying gods the reverence they are due.
Green water dragons dance with river prawns
flickering neon in magnetic seams,
Northern lights inspire blushing Southern dawns,
polar nets fishing in the solar streams.
From the heart of sun plasma rises, stares
into the emptiness, electrons dance
with protons, swirling wantonly on flares,
humans watch on, in a mystical trance.
Glowing cosmic beads slip along a string,
magnetic leelines, mythic angel wings.
Shall I entice you, dear reader
with a careful allegory or should I say
allegoria, a dance of veils where each
reveals a new colour…
Perhaps
a vista of a woman dressed in
a rose silk gown pouring
water into a bubbling stream,
with stars twinkling brightly
in a ring around her head,
her hair streams down her shoulders…
A white maned lion strolls smiling at the moon
and lays down at her feet…
Or shall I show you a motley fool
stepping boldly along a precipice
leading a caravan of squabbling players
wearing dollar bills and Armani suits
carrying guns and calculators
searching for a deux ex machina?
Me on Twitpic
