raise the camp fire,
blankets spread on
the ground,
singing dead and door
tunes,
sex chorus behind
rolling orange orb
waiting for the sherbet
Girls bringing sherbet
Tag Archives: image
Wheatfields
Wheatfields
she hitched her
shorts the cleft
appeared
and in that moment
all tides surged
today had become
brighter.
Ukrainian girl in wheat field Painting
Ukraine
Painting, Oil on Canvas
Size: 25 W x 35 H x 1.4 D cm
Denise Carruthers
As you know I love to write and love to read as well , I have known this poet for a while and she is modest , intelligent and a fiercely wonderful writer have a read then follow her on twitter and show her the love
breathing in voices
Judy lay silicone silent
under blanket
her submissiveness unconditional
lubricant with sleeve
my cream cockroaches
flow without conception
inception or growth
they crawl in that
cavity I adorned
colored with marker pens
to realise my own
lost to the dusk imagination
she will not play it down
as I whisper
she will listen
without utterances of condemnation
stroke her face
expression of a blonde bored
I need animatronic
never real
real is a prospect in terror
Judy is subjected
to all my pain
isolation and grief
and will never
need a coffin
Symbiosis
morning came
a turbid blue
Afreya awoke
stretching into her morning
wash away the sleep
soft gown falls
naked supple
moves into the garden
emerging from the still
green shrubbery
the ungrich
beaked and blind
with anal spewed eggs
that Afreya would sing to
her voice, her touch
broke soft shell
baby ungrich
fragile wet flesh
scooped and offered
Afreya took each one
devouring them
soft bony morsel
tissue swallowed
belly and breasts
began to swell
eager baby grew
her body tremors
with each and every
bite
enjoying what mother ate
Afreya smiled
her own offspring
would come
to nurture on her red milk
the world would
become theirs
as Afreya collapsed
withering to a husk
she had done
what her birth had intended
repeat the process
and die again
in that way
Not my usual kind of work, but felt compelled looking at Michael Hutters paintings, that have defining and disturbing depth of beauty
Demise of a Fly
my balls killed a fly
it’s wings shower damp
lost momentum and flight
testicular seismic shift
wrecking ball swing
smacked to the floor
whereupon in a swirl
of foam and grime
was lost to the plug hole
unmourned
@ciculodepoesia
Matchbook Cuckoo by Chris Lawrence
from the restaurant to the motel room, the kisses, the murmurs naked on sagged mattress struggle and convene inhale, exhale, is their meaning or is …
Matchbook Cuckoo by Chris Lawrence
Glory Garden
idleness of circumstance
Eve had gone
sinew as forest twine
flesh spit drowned flattened
meek without doctrine
clinging to
the something of the sun
solar passage
lunar dip
death had a taste
but not a flavour for now
he would seek
Eve
no soiled mattress
or overgrown brothel
he thought
he was his own keeper
Eve his zoo
garden foliage gleam
waiting
a worm feeling frost
not the sun
she would come
patient to those demands
but he is the compliant
not she
she is the earth
the very nature of the garden
each blossom
each fragrance
a hint of paradise
Now an #NFT on Sing the app for iPad
An Owlet Calls
hospital sounds occurred as
limp wires stretched to where she lay
quiet
body traumatised by the crash
she would scar , she would heal
away without him
her abuser,possessor , nightmare husband
a moth glimmered in her eye
how did it get in
then seemed to grow
expanding into something larger
she managed a smile
as it settled upon her
she sighed
it’s body pressing on top
a noctuidae
face bearded wise
antenna folded, she wanted to touch
trying to speak intubated
a gargling slur of nothing
I will protect you
it seemed to say
a fair exchange would be
probiscus probing pressing
her vein rich neck
flowing with oxygenated life
it pierced her flesh gently
a soft penetration
unlike others experienced
she would be safe
the owlet moth said so
quiet
she slept
#PWpoetryprompt
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