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In your dream you are paralysed, silent

Here's a shadow behind this mountain

Scurry down into the winter-valley

Dried up, shrivelled, weather-beaten,

Rock- hidden fossils, set in stone,

Evolutions of Medusa

Afflicted by a petrified decay.

All she gazed upon

Can never be rubbed away.

Such stains dry and calcify

Deep in these highland bogs

A quagmire-swamp of guilt, regret

Spilt water, wine, I forget,  what caused this, this....

disturbance in the weather

No transubstantiation this: yoked, ploughed,

Dragged, inchoate into death;

A process has begun

Welcome now obscurity, shadow,

Winter trees stripped,

Banshees scream into the wind,

A modulation of voice, a volte-face:

A variation of mood. A tattered lace. No man

Could have such bad intent as to awaken from sleep

These legions of demons that laugh as we weep?







Price on our heads ►


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John Marks

Fri 28th Jun 2019 23:01

Thank you kindly Devon and Do.RoThY. Your interest and quick wit give me the strength to carry on. John?

Devon Brock

Thu 27th Jun 2019 21:34

"Dragged, inchoate into death" - stunning.
"what caused this, this...." - forcing the pause, the repetition adds so much weight to the following line.

I needn't go on, your mastery of voice and craft on open display.


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