Marousia

Chartreuse Glow

marousia — Mon, 13 May 2013 11:45:02 +0000

A chartreuse glow in a disused store,
crystalline shards of torchlight
caught on dust motes make
cubist ghosts; silent witnesses
filter the remnants of a scene.

He was tied to a chair,
two men blew smoke rings
as a flyspecked light bulb
swayed to the rumba strains
of a thirsty wind, he hoped
he’d have the courage to evade
the questions, the inevitable
probing of his marrow,
palpating a point of penetration,
offering salvation through betrayal …
A Mesphisto bargain, tell us all,
and we shall set you free,

tell us all, knowledge shall be yours,
tell us all, we shan’t harm you…

whispers in his ears

and then the blindfold
and a single shot.

He slumped, thudding
to the concrete floor,
the chartreuse glow
gleamed redly
spreading in a slick.

Cutout Whispers

marousia — Thu, 09 May 2013 12:27:40 +0000

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

An Exhalation

marousia — Sat, 04 May 2013 04:29:05 +0000

And so … an exhalation,
almost a sigh, a silent sigh,
anticipated moments pass,
a mic stands in the centre
of the theatre in the round,
an invitation to exhale, express
words with air,
to splash words onto a screen
with fingers
into a stream with bodies here,
some bodies over there, somewhere,
seen, read out loud, performed by other
tongues and teeth, silently consumed
like little quail eggs rolling
in your mouth,
and yet
a question still remains,
a lingering afterthought,
what is the collective noun
for poets, after all?

Drawing Flight

marousia — Sun, 07 Apr 2013 13:00:51 +0000

The first thing
I can remember drawing
was a bird, I wondered why
aeroplanes didn’t flap their wings …

I wanted to fly vast distances
sniffing out the rising air
just to remain aloft;
to look back to the ground
that grounds us all…

Hold my hand,
let’s step into the sky
all senses moving into one,
on frosty mornings
glide among the breathy clouds,
on summer evenings soar
the balmy eddies flowing off
rendered concrete walls …

Let’s fly
without climbing
into the belly
of a machine.

Ghost Signs

marousia — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 04:10:50 +0000

Walking – graffiti clamours – bang bang bang,
hydraulic hammers drive foundations in,
bolded hoardings cover yawning gaps within.

I search the patchwork sky – escape the clang…
someone’s cell phone delivers a harangue…

Nostalgia Lane, bluestone bricks beneath a bin
flowing butts and wrappers – its urban skin
a palimpsest of sturm und drang;

there, decaying ghostly recollections,
once steady hand and eye, careful balance
etched in time on painted bricks and concrete;

heritage vernacular inflections,
although faded add a playful ambience,
our ghost signs still speak graciously in streets.

Sam issued a challenge to write a Miltonian Sonnet. This is my attempt – there are more over at dVerse. Do visit because there are some fabulous examples.

Form for All: The Librarian, the Poet, and the Snowblower

Pheasant Dreams (Ekphrasis)

marousia — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 23:01:47 +0000

Coming in to Land by Peter Wilkin

Inconvenient snow
dresses the earth
promising stairways to the moon’s
fair round face tonight …

With little thought
of moon splendour,
a pheasant
is coming in to land,
a brief, impossible flight…

kawk, kawk – a dream slides
on the wind … a thin scent of spring
still lingers awakening memories:

avoid earsplitting pops,
flying lumpen lead seeds;
below – iron sticks held by
two legged creatures sans wings,

picture -
rustling hedges filled with
hawthorne berries, hazelnut blooms
dangling like an old man’s beard
promising fat nuts …

red reynard hunts …

But today the hen yard entices
with pellets – the non leaden kind -
kawk, kawk – landing gear down

with a thump.

Open Link Night ~ Week 89

Cento Moments

marousia — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 11:01:39 +0000

These lines are taken from Edgar Allan Poe’s and William Wordsworth’s wonderful poetry.

Solitary, clear, profound
Grains of the golden sand
Between the water and a winding slope
Were dancing to the minstrelsy.

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
A Whirl-Blast from behind the hill
Answering to the shouting Cuckoo
“Always write first things uppermost in the heart.”

And the silken sad uncertain
Rustling of each purple curtain
With altars undisturbed of mossy stone
Slowly settle into peaceful calm
Out of SPACE- out of TIME,
The harvest of a quiet eye.

Feather Squeak

marousia — Sun, 17 Mar 2013 11:24:18 +0000

an unthought hand
waves a stray feather -
it caresses
strings
of the wind
invisible
naked
undulating
like a cat’s tail
in the wind
listen
the vibrations
become electric
motions
caught on a nerve
to squeak
exquisitely

Linking up again with dversepoets.com for Open Link Night. Welcome and thank you for visiting.

Moonstruck

marousia — Sun, 10 Mar 2013 23:46:17 +0000

Another poem using Jackie’s prompt words:

apple, statue, romancing, jumping, eating, moonstruck, rough, handsome, institutionalize, encyclopedia

The faceless clamour,
“We should institutionalize
all those who are found
romancing statues moonstruck,
those who were once handsome
jumping through hoops, now
sleeping rough, those who converse
with the stars sitting in groves
eating green apples and all
who dispute that which is written
in the official encyclopedia … “

Two Interlinked

marousia — Sun, 10 Mar 2013 02:34:13 +0000

This is my Interaction poem for the dverse prompt

Poetics: InterActions

.Diana Lee @Diana605 was the first to repsond to my call for 2 nouns, 3 verbs, 3 adjectives and 2 random words.

Here are Diana’s words:
periphery, wetlands/wept,drop,vanished/deafening,abundant,tender/river, rose

and these from Stefan Schutt

leaf, wall/ride, eat, reflect/brown, full, moving/life, artefact

so here goes ~

Two Interlinked

The wetlands gleam,
a tender rose leaf
floats languidly upon river,
a woman cloaked in ochre
is softly moving,
searching for an artefact,
now vanished

beyond the periphery

in the steppes now brown
where once a camel wept,
children ride their horses
searching for a place to shelter.

Along the east horizon,
abundant lightning prances,
as the thunder bristles to reflect;
a prelude to the first full drop
of deafening monsoon percussion …

The clouds spring to life,
the children take cover
in a tent, content to sit and eat,
listening to an orchestra
of rain …

The woman finds her talisman
shining in the river mud …