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a different planet

entry picture

 

Could we ever learn to read their runes?

To test the texture of those shy, reluctant smiles

and guess their distance to a kiss?

 

They send smoke signals,

talk of pow-wow

sharpen fork-tongue

go to wigwam . . .

(Hope cavalry come soon.)

 

We hear hieroglyphs, hexadecimal,

Vulcan and Venusian,

live long and prosper language

- our mother tongue falling deaf

on a simple father's ears.

 

We're supposed to know,

some psychic empathy,

syncopated resonance,

in-built, ingrained, in-tune,

enigma code

an inner lexicon of nuance,

cartography and meteorology

of the psyche

- a butcher's balance for the soul.

 

 

 

◄ PARTY! (a shameless re-post!)

Who'da thunk it? ►

Comments

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Isobel

Sun 23rd Nov 2014 14:51

Wow this is different for you Anthony - an experiment with free verse? It's incredibly liberating isn't it?

Love the imagery that sweeps you along in this. You seem to mourn the distance that opens up between adult and child. I think that it varies from one adult to another - some people manage to keep more of that childish wonder, impulsiveness and hope in them. I guess even being able to recognise the loss means something.

Your last line is a sad one - growing up really does give you hard choices.

Not sure if I'm expressing myself well enough here. It's great to see you back posting :)

xx

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