What have we got? August!
When can we have it? Now!
And although I know it all goes like the clappers
till the final, one hand clap, yet
each second's blackberry sweet-'n'-sour's
eternity breathing in the basking sun.
A flicked snake-tongue. Great serpent lies
in coils exhausted along turns of roads.
Set twirls his spear with the marching bands.
School's long out and empty the classrooms
whine with fly-echoes in ghosted spaces.
The street's half empty yet of bickering kids
this endless weekend month. They're gone
(let me not name the places like a pompous T.S.E)
on holiday and some dogs to kennels. Yes!
And as for you, my other sweeter foe,
I can still tirade, smash some debris
with tungsten sonnet edge to finer residue,
throw a bough or two with the best gorillas
but I tire of it sooner. It leaves me cold.
Before and after snapshots still collude
to reprove my carelessness in losing you:
how the othernesses - the rose of vulva
mammary pomegranate song of songs
liveliness of smile, softness of voice,
gentility of hands, the tentative, the belly laugh...
et cetera... and Rah! Ra! Twirl the spear, Set.
The multiverse that two create all popped
and time-lines writhing snake smoke...
Plain universe I have to inhere within
colonize and project my mind across
the little I have, the greater part of which
the Gods hold out in simplest offer.
The brambles round the corner
incredibly ignored by this estate
are mine too by default - and August,
demotically in common with the smallest fly.
.......................................
Written by Gunk and polished up by Long. Ooer!
YOU ARE READING
Keep The Home Fires Burning
PoetryA poetry Collection. Now Lunk has taken to his bed, swearing not to write one more word about C, and muttering 'bloody garden', it behoves (Love that word, don't you?) me (and Anima) to fill out his shoes, with soil and flower seed. So we will be 'e...
