17 , 17 syllable American Sentences

Following a dVerse incentive i try the American Sentence a flourish of lines at 4am this morning hope they go down ok

1: his nose punched flat lips split pouted looking for a fight every night

2: a can of schlitz sunset and low slung impala remedy for loss

3: obstinate kisses infect toothache jaw ache headache neurology needed

4: motel marinade coated and baked off counted dollars and returned to the street

5: diamond finger tug gold band reminder these kisses where illicit

6: sat hunched on the toilet hand working the memory that he had betrayed

7: winters pale counterpane gave no shelter for the rabbit from predatory air

8: reasons could be found on the diminishing length of yesterdays words

9: dial the number wait for tone he would not answer he is long gone

10: jazz piano raw as her voice began to crack it was no longer 1954

11: seek the stars and they will not shine anticipating the moment to surprise

12: guitar strings strangle all chances of finding reconciliation

13: two finger pressure shudder she releases a sigh he was erased

14: bellboy at end of marble hall hear titans whisper demise of poor

15: grandpa’s hand once so steady gone leaves remember tobacco smell

16: over ocean swathe she watches vessel under pirates color sail

17 : amity beach july bathers swim children play mayor falters shark prowls

fall frodsham hill

in autumn time
leaves melted
dripping down,
catching in our hair
golden sugar droplets
in ceaseless cascade,
hand in hand
only cool air between us
birds gave last song
before the encroaching winter
i could look to my side
see her and still know
the reason for my breath
and last two decades,
it was a leap
as great as a stags
that my heart did,
clasping hand tighter
reassurance that all this
was permanent

blood of the cucurbita

we are myth

we are legend,

behind fences we are found

bred and sacrificed on all hallows eve,

generations past

gutted and carved in celebration,

so misunderstood seen only as decoration

as human skulls on poles once where,

unlike my wild cousins in mexico

scattered over landscape and mountain,

they do not suffer the tampering

of our genetics

79 loci,

phenotypic slides for frankenstein,s scientist

altered , inbred,

not realizing our beauty

in shape and color

palmate leaves , long tendrils

unisexual flowers touched by gentle bee

curling about stamen

stroking with long legs

collecting pollen my yellow stain

peponapis body thrumming

resonant on my petals,

10,000 years of domestication

treated worse than dogs

compliant in nature as man knows best

our flesh substance forgotten

as gourd display incised and flensed

to amuse and terrify

projects of another’s nature

that is more disturbing and cruel

poetry, poem , fall

no more clapboard storehouse

seasons merchant brings the harvest

flesh ripened berries and firm apples

john deere’s wander fields

barns fill with crop,

barricades still out against winter

last flush of heat clinging on

birds on the cusp of migration

still hold a note in song,

and i face my execution

she had wanted me for years

now i was disposable,

unable to plow fields

and seed a decent crop

inverted hearts adorn the page,

and i find the porch

for sleeping some more,

i wish the merchant did not

expect so much,

being a simple man

i was now to be abandoned

she could make her heart autonomous

it had to turn inside

beneath her maiden outlines

no flesh expanded as she expected,

evicted to the car

its vinyl bench with no pillow

woke one morning and drove

leaving her and her field

to be sown by another

in spring

poetry, poem , fall

did the sky close

trees doused in solar gasoline

flaring cinematic glow

radiant crawling into eyes

and eventually the heart,

it is beyond the four day rain

so no use writing a haiku,

what will you say to moments

missed out by heaven

and only mortal seen,

air as with light has cooled

leaves and pine needles

penetrate the body,

someone will hunt a deer

stripping carcass on the ground

flies on blood crust,

crows clack and dance on branches

high,

in summer your sea washed hair

fell in curls,

now damp hung onto shoulders

as you move off the porch,

eyes with a carnivore hollering

look at those trees

axe slips in hand

thudding only in the mind

blood trail on boards

not yet dry,

those beings who creak at night

have cheated you into thinking

that cutting laughter out of a

throat was better seen than smelled

footfalls soft blue dress swish

night will crawl back into the moon

and phase out its glow,

taking with it memories

no longer imprinted

fragile in the innocence of

aftermath began to feel

that summer had gone

like an abrupt lover

and everything would be felt

with a frost

of reality

 

 

 

endured no more

titian tints of summer yield

forgetting and embracing

wind and rain,

winter would come with shackles

a home,

citadel of seclusion

sphere light bulbs and ticking clocks

here you can contemplate

the different shades of life

and it’s own complex fate,

grey heart beats,

distilled whiskey poured in

glass streaked by fingers

that once touched face,

without silken words

she would return

and the fevered mind would clear

moments of indiscretion

reshape reform

music would attract,

moth like fluttering in her heart

and the once broken tongue

would speak again

healing a process

begun

Alexander Rodchenko- War of The Future (1930)

alexander rodchenko war of the future 1930

 

Alexander Rodchenko magazine illustration War Of The Future (Voina budeshchego) a constructivism montage this had a documentary feel stating chemical warfare fall and collapse as seen by his analytical mind which also looked at conflict as a whole

Woman As A Season

a woman has a correct eye

one that penetrates deep

between lines of sunlight

reading clouds, tasting air,

flavor is there

cool musty lychee dawn

fleshy pulp of golden coming,

resonant sounds filled the clouds

adding iron to the silence,

winter was a long breath away

autumn came first,

shed of green leaves burn bronze

streams fill and swell

nature laying down

a woman has an automated touch

fingertip brush that works the earth,

cooling firm soil

soon discover frost,

suspended as belief,

apples and cinnamon

warm pie and ale,

ashes in fire rekindles embers,

forests lay paths of leaves

moist and cling to feet,

then dry curling crisp,

kicked into piles by laughing children

a woman has a malleable heart

shaped and formed on whispered breath

clouded from mouth in morning,

days shorten,

clock has no time

fingers bent in persuasion

to the season,

she found a place now

a place she liked,

glad summer was evaporating

in it’s own heat,

and winter held it’s snow at bay,

she related to this

feel and consider her life

a moment at a time,

autumn was her time,

her time alone and here she

remained