Been fiddling again
Another shape poem bites the dust never mind it sort of works like this, may fiddle with it later.
November
Golden
Flowers
Bloom in the sky spreading lace like
Till they drop fire flies
Biting
the
back of my throat jacket potato fog
a Catherine wheel drills
Through
Sulphur
Toffee smoking breath jumps out
in shouts and squeals
The
shapes
of people skipping fire tongues mad as
moths waving sparkling wands
That
fizzel
and plop into buckets that gasp. Soup
by the trestle load. Raw
Kneed
Boy
Scouts scrawl messy signs and offer tissue fists of hotdog
Glide
Steaming
clouds of onion. Coins clinking, hats pulled further down
Only the Guy prays for rain
He doesn’t know that it always rains
24 Hours
When you polished your long black boots
You smudged his face
With a dull heel print
The face with sad dark eyes
Yesterday it was news
In the mirror your eyes gleam with blue powder
All curled lashes
Hair tongues fresh
Skin and ebony hair
In a flick of red enamel
Newspaper and cotton wool
Shoved in a black bin liner
Like the one his mother buried him in
November
Golden
Flowers
Bloom in the sky spreading lace like
Till they drop fire flies
Biting
the
back of my throat jacket potato fog
a Catherine wheel drills
Through
Sulphur
Toffee smoking breath jumps out
in shouts and squeals
The
shapes
of people skipping fire tongues mad as
moths waving sparkling wands
That
fizzel
and plop into buckets that gasp. Soup
by the trestle load. Raw
Kneed
Boy
Scouts scrawl messy signs and offer tissue fists of hotdog
Glide
Steaming
clouds of onion. Coins clinking, hats pulled further down
Only the Guy prays for rain
He doesn’t know that it always rains
24 Hours
When you polished your long black boots
You smudged his face
With a dull heel print
The face with sad dark eyes
Yesterday it was news
In the mirror your eyes gleam with blue powder
All curled lashes
Hair tongues fresh
Skin and ebony hair
In a flick of red enamel
Newspaper and cotton wool
Shoved in a black bin liner
Like the one his mother buried him in
14 Comments:
This brought a smile to my face :)
Loved the flowing feel of it all like a rumbling little train trundling around a countryside and skies covered with 'spreading lace'
The shape is 'round' and the taste sweeet :))
Thanks Pins, you probably guessed bonfire night is a favourite of mine, all that cinder toffee and sparkling sky.
Agree with pincusion. This one flows and flows. Well written!
i like the way your words hug each other in your verses. they're always a fun read yet they have meanings. yes, sue do make a book for all of your poems.
oh yeah, BONFIRE NIGHT.
YAAAAAAYY.
every year we set fire to the bottom half of my garden.
can't wait.
wonderful evocation in your words of that time!
Thank-you A
Gama I'm glad I made you smile, and that you are safe.
Amie and Gama, no I haven't but I'm in some anthologies which is nice, gettin a collection published here is difficult unless you're really well known, but if the workshops I'm doing go well I'm thinking of self publishing my children's poetry and illustraitions as the kids I work with often ask for one.
Fin this started as a shape poem that zig zaged across the page like a naughty firework, but it won't post as it was so I'm glad you like how it flows, hopefully it has the effect of snapping from one immage to another
CJ we always have a big bonfire in the garden, with slimy things to put your hands in, costumes and as everybody brings thier fire works and something to eat it means it can go on for ages, great apart from the mud and the year I found out I was alergic to face paints, good fun for everyone laughing at me
with each poem your talent gently smiles!
Thank-you Gulnaz what a lovely compliment
I was trying to describe how this poem felt to me, but couldn't find the words. Then I read your comment "snapping from one image to another." And yes, that's exactly it!
Nice work, Sue.
Gamma I've left a note on your blog
Don't like this number
Really beautiful Sue! I think I agree with all the wonderful comments!
Thanks Russel, glad the comments agree with you
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