Wednesday, February 21, 2007

More verbore

What with the TAAQ blog and all, I'm not much of a puli on this paper any more.

But here's more from the poetry cupboard. Ah to be young again.

Train
Twinned ribbon-steel stretching into black distance
Overlined with wires of blue-ice fire;
Metarticulate serpent glides to concrete stop.
And the earth momentarily lives.
Disjointed shades of thought
Detach themselves from weary wrought-iron
To cling like benign tumours
On bolted stanchions.

Greasy black hair smelly cigarette
Pockets of gaiety exchanged epithet
Peeling yellow paint rusty rivet
Faces locked on private
Dreams.

Wind ruffles through window bars
Sickly sweet aroma of half-done work
and the Train moves on.


Midnight
Midnight
And the sky is red with cloud
Whisper whisper
Coconut secrets
In dusky stillness
Moribund shadows
of unborn Sun
On angel wings of the night
No star no planet
Just murky soup
In the china-black bowl
Of Milky service Way

Scratch
Steel point ink sword
Your blood is your life
And you squander it
To imagination not thine
Drawing midnight into fine line
With white space sense, your friend

Sleep steals in with sandy eyelids
And I must go
Midnight, my friend, I watch you
With lightless eyes and tired mind
And soon you are gone.

Amen.

4 Comments:

At 9:26 AM, Blogger slickthief said...

keep bringing them Bruce.

and pls blog more!

heh..

 
At 11:58 PM, Blogger Ramya said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

 
At 8:29 PM, Blogger Ramya said...

hello,have linked your blog to mine,hope its not a problem :)

 
At 7:32 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Train: reminded me of Fountainhead...
Great stuff you've got here Bruce...am a big fan of your music and songwriting and Plan B has been languishing on my playlist since times immemorial...
ramble on!

 

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