depression

Another quick doodle. I quite fancied writing something obscure (bit like throwing paint on a canvass and then finding out you have painted an abstract cow unintentionally or something) so I gave it ago and instead something found itself I think.

Downward Selling

Honey jars spiked with pickle stain
labour diets and unanswered calls.

Chalk dust heaped in piles pokes distain,
mauls strawberry cake offered from the other hand.

Pathos befalls us all, invites us to eat from the stand,
Tries to bury tulips in the morning sand.

A quick doodle.

The Shroud

Soft as moonlight in lover’s eyes
the shroud takes our misplaced hand.

Deceptive as Judas the cloth descends
snuffs out shadows and sound

Kills the talkative tongue.

I have written about "spaces" before although this time I thought I would but what I called a tilt on it. A tilt is a bit like throwing the same ball but at a different angle so it goes somewhere else.

The idea is partly a follow on to my previous post about the undercurrent in life although this time I have played with a rhyming scheme as a bit of an exercise.

Originally I was going to write a poem about my father, however like a runaway train what came out on the page was something completely different.

I have always seen this as the mind ticking away on a subconcious or unconcious level and then crawling it's way into a concious level and out through the pen.

"Matchstick Mountain" is an odd piece but in a weird kind of way says a lot even though (if you like) it's written almost in code.

I haven't got a lot to do at the office so I thought I would be sneaky and do a quick fire poem to pass a bit of time.

Quick fire - Take a word. Write on it within a limited amount of time.

Vacuum

Winds change
But, the sun still rises
fails to change the empty eyes
dragged from a death bed
to smile.