Kurt

 

Troubled soul in a landscape,

Muted colours, soft, open strokes,

Sometimes wild,

He paints for love, 

For life,

For hope 

And tries to rebuild

Something new

From something old

Re-visiting

 

1

I've been summoned

The headmaster's voice is 

Unusually quiet

It's about your poem

On war

I'm scared because I'm 

looking at my shoes

and they're not clean 

the route to school is long

and often dirty,

sometimes slippy 

infront of the tanning 

factory. 

Do you know what futile means ?

His voice is not unkind,

Looking up I nod and meet his steely gaze,

Mum says it when she's cleaning,

It'll only need doing again 

Sir

Good girl.

His pat on the head 

makes me jump

You can go now.

Confused, 

I return to class.

It's sewing today.

I'm finishing my dress.

2

Our pictures are on the wall 

Mine is of our “ faithful” dog Prince 

Which is funny really 

Since he goes missing regularly 

I’ve written it quite neatly 

Along with 

I want to be a meteorologist 

And I omit to say because 

My dad says I should

 

Nevertheless 

He’s wiping a tear 

Could be he’s happy 

It's not always that clear

3

Writing draws me out 

A long string 

My mother knitted me 

Somehow 

This metaphor is insufficient 

Walking

This 

            poem

is

              put ting 

one 

             foot

infront

                             of

another 

Not 

walking

a

tight

rope

small

steps

tip

toe

tulips

all 

survive

1001

 

There are exactly 1001 

dilemmas that/which make up a story.

A poem speaks for itself. 

Sappho/Psappha

The poetess,

The Tenth Muse, 

Whose words were changed to 

suit the audience,

Sometimes,

No 31 becomes

a solitary song

overheard

the/her

Sapphic meter

carries the strength

Of Love and Passion

Over and Over

Her piety was/is

formidable.

        💘

Chosen Words - Our world in flux

 

Plumes

All

The

Wrong

Words

Accounting

For 

My 

Time

Thought flurry

Sound image

This

Sentence

Is

A

Sword

Silence

Why 

Time

Vessels

Seeds

A 

Music

Which

Speaks

For 

Me

This

Country

Is

At 

War

Something

Resonating

Forgotten

Places

Private

Spaces

Spend 

It

Wisely

No

More

War

These 

Words

Are

Mine

Partners

 

I poached this idea from somewhere and fell in love with it, so I made it mine own, if it's yours, I apologise, I'm not planning on selling it, I just find it comforting;

My dear death follows me everywhere,

She's been there from my start,

Gently sad, she's seen my everything,

And whatever my final end may bring,

She'll surely be with me,

My constant,

My gentle, lovely lady death.

My loving heart. 

Speculation 11

 

Chapter II

Altered states

Travelling between towns across countryside glittering with solar panels,  giant windmills looming large in the near distance, their vast arms whirring slowly in the ever constant winds, the bullet train hisses and slows to a charging point infront of a vast, monolithic grey windowless cube. The train's hermetically sealed interior locks out the hum of the data centre and the potentially noxious atmosphere. Heaven's  overcast with the pall of greyness that is now the sky, so seldom broken by sunshine these days and so rarely visited by birds that people have begun to lose the habit of looking up. 

As the train clicks then moves smoothly forwards again, the squat, bucket-shaped ticket robot shuffles down the narrow aisle, holding out it's scanning arm to check passengers' ident badges. 

Pausing next to a huddled shape, all in black, head covered and face obscured by a hood the robot prods the apparent bundle of rags but it keels over and slumps sideways, bumping the robot a few inches to which it objects loudly, expressing it's alarm with an ear-splitting high musical note and the train jerks in a few instants to a halt, passengers shifting only slightly in their seats, some look expectantly at the door at the end of the carriage and others with mild horror and bewilderment at the black bundle blocking the aisle. Everyone covers their ears, wishing the pulse of the panicked alarm would stop. 

*

Speculation

 

Chapter the First

Times changes

Flowers kept blooming into the beginning of Winter. 

The pink Geraniums and magenta Primulas were especially delightful in their colourful exuberance.  Trees hung on to their beautiful senescent leaves.  Primroses rose up early.  

Even the air took on a glowing,  eerie luminescence. 

It might be now, but it was a vision from the near future. 

*