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

Pavel Laponog

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

Denise Carruthers

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

Juke Date 74

there is a dirt road thunder

away from city limits

dust and grits

and over burnt coffee

crows feet eyes

and indistinct touch

nothing cellphone can resolve

jukebox clicks to vinyl

see her in the kitchen

with a smile

I will eat her pie

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

Glory Garden by Chris Lawrence

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

Owlet moth copyright Daniel Kaliko

#PWpoetryprompt

Fields Ploughed

I look at my penis

skin collar

lychee tip

then piss

a long straw stream

you are not a memory

you are a gift

finger folds

and soften furze

we know we belong

but until when

the scythe decides

Chris Lawrence

Spikey Mouse Photography

Follow the link to see my wife’s Photography website award winning art you can own and desire “The first half of the 20th century belongs to Picasso, and the second half is about photography. They said digital…

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