Sunday Specials

Sharing words Sundays' words......

 

Cultivating Yesterday

She looked over the rim of her spectacles
Wrapping me in cellophane yesterdays
I left the room, did not digest left with right
As my mind yanked my coat from the peg
Leaving tear stained finger prints on the locker door

Wedged between the garden gate a bird sat
Its wings trapped in suffocating feathers
Broken tips flapped its tomorrows into yesterday
Dreamt the belief it could fly with mother nature

Its back eyes spelt fear, with beaked entrapment
I was used to seeing the bird on a wing...soaring
I did not know its fairy tale ending....watching
I saw someone whisk it away, a bundle of cotton cloth

I wonder if it fell out with nature as I fell short
Of 'Miss' with her desire to teach the fan dango
To those that wouldn't learn. The french parrot laughed
In my day dream, as she threw a missile on the wings
Of a near miss chalk board duster.......

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Brickwork Silence

If silence were to overwhelm in quiet noise
Noise to overwhem in loud silence
We would.....would we?
Resume to mediocrity
Squander in and out of the
Hum drum notion
A shallow scale of beige
Quick quicksand, slow quick quick slow pace
To a death by chocalate wrapped up in a silver
Game plan of beige instructions

You told me this before signing irrelevancy into
The first line
Out of the way to straightforward
Mental monotony......you wrote

We walked waywardly
Shells scrambled underfoot
To find contrast amis
You didn't talk
Of wandering off course, the
Art of expression took
Our lullaby

We read the recipe for cement, cooked on
High alert
Locked one another in the eye....
beadily

Chose safely, colours of beige
Walled......wall to wall.
Behind the shadowed brickwork

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The Lost

When words fail and the song dies in your soul
The soft cushion weighs heavy, threadbare, when
Dust invites the attic attack to the last memory stroll
A fretful protest march accompanying the wood grained heart

You noticed the space in short supply, with tight breath, the
Expert bargaining skills have begun, bypassing
The weak hearts, those that are still journeying
Their healing held up in tight palms of moistoned skin

And the slide into another day begins, dreadfully
With arched pain barriers drumming their morning
Beat. Occupational hazard was on the rampage
Cracking skull caps from their skinned residence

I shone a light into the acute grey tone of those
Hearts, those whose shapes lost conviction as the light
Shot arrowed tongues from the deaf interiors of wise men
Out on the town of feeble failings, they held nothing as their companion