Grimbeau

Scroodles

Category: writing

Juneday Twenty: Gloam

The lolling lion

A slow heavy fast night of clammy claw

CS Lewis wakes up the coffee hour

Good banks for the rich: bad banks for the poor.

Loose head props a sea of waxy flowers

Lolling on the blue, crucible altar;

Swimming the foamback Bosphorous caprice

Carpetted riviera road floor.

Catch the earlybird bullet to Nice!

Consideration: transportation is

Unavailable at this holy hour

Also calculate the lonely crowds of rose

That spend so much time wallflowering

Patiently awaiting a tender pruning.

Pawspause

Afternoon aftermath after

A tumultuous weekend of whisky

and wounds and lesions to self by self,

to self by others, and the rest of it as well.

Heavy warming windless afternoon of droning lawnmowers.

Food ingested, fish & eggs, onward and sideboard.

Sarnies & Pringlees, scabby knees’ ups…then

doppelbangers & yonyons! Feke daze in sum dazzling meddo:

krumpetities in transparent kotton; yum-yum;

mosskeytoes zip sharpish nippingly,

bugginuss as youshoe well:  nerewhon gniog.

Strudelweissly hee hawed hiz whey Threwtown.

English: Fortress of Amberd castle and northwe...

Mumblings

Baluster

What was the whisper of the sea?

Around the balustrade

What was the whistle of the sea?

Who cast me in this mystery?

When is the start of history

What was the whisper of the sea,

Around the balustrade.

Yellow is blue

The sun is gray

A sizzling sausage goes cold and older

The scythe rests in the mellowed sun

Concorde eases a troubled shoulder

Gray is blue

The sun is yellow

 

I am what I am

I am what I am.

Poetic Champions Decompose

nastya-kaletkina

She Sings Good

Way downstream in

Sleeping Waters rise

Spring tides surge.

How very dare I meet her now,

brave the dangerous voyage?

The grass lies down in the valley below

Where milk cows ominous sit.

After hands work scripts that never end

Dawn to dusk when the cuckoo spits

 

Dreamboat

sleep

 

 

Exhausted by the dumping I stole away

aboard the Lardy Cake for far distant

shores of Nark, where bumble bees put their feet

up after a hard day’s humming &

talking twaddle is a hanging offence…