Cloud Lidded
Robin song flashes, jinking tongue to mind.
The growing season slows, but is not over
Three dandelion yellow-heads today
and three more in optimism ready.:
In dull cloudlight plump, roseate apples shine.
Where their leaves have curled up yellowing
blacked by fungus, they linger on twigs, boughs.
A gust sails one or two a gale would clear.
The thorn within the hedge is rusting too
and nettles show an ochre in few leaves
between green veins, tattering in beauty;
but that is nothing new -
deceptively
their flowers withered; brown seeds swelled in place -
subtle hold-outs in their transformations.
The biggest red apple, prize of the tree
has a neat hole - but flesh-wound, no maggot..
Bite into sweetness, and look up to see,
convolvulus has topped the elder now
flaunts out on high a bloodless decadence.
........................................
Sonnet: Cloud-Lidded
Today I'm riven more than clean in two -
one thrilled with dandelion yellow-heads
one deep obsessing with the blues of yous -
neither sun nor sorrow within me treads,
reviewing histories I lived and am
and these sad stories that my friends tell too,
I sit half out of body, in no shoe -
snail-trails gleam glitter but their ways are sham.
Something neither rage nor indignation,
sulking sadness, yet in no denial;
regret not swamping processes of trial;
jugdements in suspended animation.
Of course there's no blinding revelation:
yet I taste the terrors of equation.
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...
