Archive for modern poetry

Captains One Minute

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on February 16, 2018 by dc

They look for light on the moors,
Their dialogue is spent,

Puzzled pieces grouping,
The wind a looping moan

Tumbling through charcoal,
Breathing wintery shadows,

All seems lost and uneasy,
Ice whispers and frost,

Guessing through darkness,
Thoughts and landscape all riddled,

Nothing hills and reservoirs,
Snaking tracks and scattered birds,

The hum of pylons all consistent
As the nightmares start to stir.

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Autocryptic

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on February 9, 2018 by dc

See the
Adulating smiles
He has drawn on
All these strangers,

Poking fingers
In their dreams
Like a child
In summer’s paws,

He is golden,
He is chosen,
He is never
One of yours.

We Signed Naive

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on February 4, 2018 by dc

From the petri dish
To the river
And from the puddles
To the plate,

We’ve been dancing
Around like sinners,
Teasing wicked,
Twisted fates.

From the chimney stacks
To the ocean
And from our footprints
To the sky,

We’ve been rubberstamping
Notions,
Inking some
Old stranger’s lies,

We
Signed
Naive.

Cloudy Water

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on January 21, 2018 by dc

Thoughts fragment
And then waywardly wander

Before returning together
To whisper displeasure;

Stray cats hunt squirrels,
Startled babies screech,

Barking dogs echo
And howl out wild rumours,

A distant street argument
Growls down chimneys

And the weekend litter rustles
Its dance between dramas;

Give the cold tap five seconds
Before you fill up your glasses.

One Last Battle

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on January 19, 2018 by dc

A broken watch
Loose on the wrist
Of a dead thief
In the street,

The clasp pulls
on a taught,
Resilient arm hair
In one last battle

As the cracked glass
Sings it’s fractured song
For the final sun
Of summer.

After The Interest

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on January 13, 2018 by dc

Ominous interludes,

We’re left shadowed
By a new curse,

There’s an apprehension,
A hunger,
A new dehydration,

A collective will
Unravelled,
A vortex ushering.

The sky is lost,
Throwing up numbers
By chance

And we’re out of
Explanations,
There’s no history or science,

There’s no logical
Calculations
Or assured wizardry,

Unknotting dilemmas
And plotting escape routes
From doubt and uncertainty,

From this forgotten village
Lit by dim limelight
And bruised by the mayhem,

A post-war reminder
That the news crews
Don’t stay long

Once the worst
Starts its fading
And the words disappear.

In a cracked, dusty corner,
Scratching at continuity,
Peeved and vulnerable,

One finger typing,
Slowly wondering
And spent,

Crooked hope sits obliquely,
A hiatus in the suffering,
All feeble and quaint,

A pant where a chant lay,

He breaks wind
And retires.

Inside The Dusk Pink Stables

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , on January 6, 2018 by dc

A horse with brittle hooves,
Three loose shoes rattling
A long forgotten torment
On uneven concrete floors.

Inside the dusk pink stables,
All haunted neighs and groom ghosts
Shuttling in stop motion
As an aching sun disappears,

A flickering split second slideshow,
Spent black and white heartbeats
Fibrillating through the sorrow
For their kiss of history.