A waxing moon

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The sky was pink that evening

Blotches of an adamantine brittleness

Spread slowly all over the Cheshire plain,

All over the acres and acres of rich pickings.

The quarter moon is waxing to the right

Behind my back and out of sight and mind 

A grove of black, spidery trees skeletal and strange

Put me in mind of a MR James story

Of an unrequited remonstrance 

That stands on its back legs and barks

As sparks catcha fire in the mind of one

Isolated man who cannot imagine

Any really new New Year's Day . 

◄ A rose garden at altitude under occupation

Running for my life ►

Comments

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poemagraphic

Wed 1st Jan 2020 21:40

Blimey John really branching out

So atmospheric, Great piece of poetry man.

Po

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Brian Maryon

Wed 1st Jan 2020 21:15

Great googling John!

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John Marks

Wed 1st Jan 2020 21:10

but now no one's looking for me
and i'm not running down caragana street
you and i both know that this is not about the sink
it's the sophomore sky that loved and died
it's the sky i loved and tried

livin' out the lies that look good in young eyes
it's the sophomore sky that loved and died
it's the sky i loved and tried

Tommy Vereb, Sophomore Sky

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Brian Maryon

Wed 1st Jan 2020 00:19

John - in Worcestershire tonight we witnessed an extremely rare sophomore sky.

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