Poetry Blogs (2019, april)
Rose Casserley on no more the demanding sound of his snapping fingers (1 hour ago)
No, it’s true, April does not
Arrive as a grim reaper
Coming to take souls
Off to underground rivers
In the waste land
Or anything like that.
On first glance, April
Is a reprieve, new life
Is in abundance, and
We step out and look up
For the first time in awhile.
Now we can rouse ourselves.
Lift ourselves from bed
And go out into the world.
Monday 1st April 2019 11:38 am
No more fools again on April
It was last lies to believe
Complicated!!, Why not simple?
Take it easy, or should leave
If someone forces to trust
That one puts others in doubting
When the truth appear very fast
That one is afraid or hiding
We should only pray to God
God will keep hearts more faithful
When the purity clean the blood
Surely life will be more u...
Monday 1st April 2019 8:12 am
Poetry in unusual places
Yarn-bombing red as a spaniel
Line of poetry clutters in clusters
Faeries and Diddymen, aliens and witches
We transcend to rainbows when we die
Cold coffee cup clocks stuck at half-past six
The witch her face disfigured
Better methinks burnt at stake.
Lost in the past watching swallows flying north in spring
Swallows in blue s...
Monday 19th March 2018 10:06 pm
for blaring into his day;
She is simply happier
when couched in her mumbles of grey
They have their blinkers on
They leave the paths untrodden
While the world chokes out a song
It's a choice that they embrace
They know the Earth keeps turning
At its' baffling, blurring pace
Thursday 28th April 2016 11:17 pm
shall you consider
with a glance
what ails this
may you come here
on a chance, outside
while painted-over grills
creak & strain to open:
await firm hands.
niceties are mute,
minute breaths, plenty.
Please make your response or comment on my profile page. Thank you.
Friday 6th April 2012 3:48 am
Into the riot of the spring
sirens are calling my soul
what the hell is wrong with me?
I feel like I'm a thousand years old
But I've just been a boy
who started a million fires
went down on his knees and then prayed
to catch another glimpse of your face
That day you were wearing a skirt
the day you made my knees shake
all that distant time...
Sunday 15th May 2011 11:40 pm
There’s something about April -
the way she wears her clothes:
loosely fit. One button more
and September is exposed.
The veil removed, her flesh reveals
December’s naked trees;
Springtime lurks behind the bark
and drags me to my knees.
I kneel upon her dewy cloak
And make her moss my bed;
Saturday 30th April 2011 12:17 pm