to the manor born
through avenging bone-clouds crisp as blighty's air
the watching heads of horseshoe sparks Trafalgar Square to flame
six-two-and-even,
pennys for the old guys flicking spyglass to the porcelain
burns brandy hot on the tail of tricks to flower hell and ball;
to the bawl of creeping concrete
comes grace devine as cateracts in the peering eyes of nomad
(from saharas' streets of grassland, now
in roots of nile as dead as light upended)
to the punch-drunk raven walking on his ears
lacing coffee boots for the street whores in their sunday vests
four letters full, all spelt as love
their dovetail joints once blonde, now brown as his?
to the manor, born and bred
for pumpkin pie in hunchback park
with croup cough bark no blanket leaves can heal;
steel thunder runs as gallops eyes
through my bitter brain of tortilla wraps of anger.
holly green in comfort meat
still in love with the hearts that i sleep with?
how can i breathe,
with these hearts that breathe no more?
-
Author:
Melvin James (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 13th, 2021 04:25
- Comment from author about the poem: when all is left are memories.
- Category: Love
- Views: 24
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments2
maybe not useless...insightful perhaps;
many thanks;
'to the bawl of creeping concrete
comes grace devine
as cateracts in the peering eyes'
'to the manor, born and bred
for pumpkin pie
in hunchback park
with croup cough bark,
no blanket leaves can heal;'..
simply, Brilliant
(what A Talent!)
thank you for sharing, dear Poet
thank you L B Mek;
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