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tenyearsinabeaglecollaredshirt

ponderous poetry for the hoi polloi

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dream

Sleeplessness

Ultra-violet cannonball,

Ultraviolent aerosol,

One smacker which smacks of ethanol,

Does discourage me from sleep.

 

Ultramarine turns to gold,

Submachine gun light to hold,

Two smackers which smack of ethanol,

Do discourage me from sleep.

 

Ultrasonic melodies,

Gin and tonic-fuelled elegies,

Three smackers which smack of all of these

Do discourage me,

Of all people would you believe,

From the sleep I so desperately need.

 

p.s. in actual fact, all I desperately need is you.

Cat o’ nine tails

Come come Cat o’ nine tails,

Oh tease me

With your wicked whispers

Fired straight from a bolt gun into

My grateful ears,

Young whippersnapper

Whip me into shape,

My girl (that’s you!)

With nine lives to live,

And one life of mine to superintend…

 

Oh please,

Please, please please!

Just dig your claws into me and

Paint a red-hot tapestry,

To match the markings on your back,

(Eh don’t copy!)

But imitation is the best way to keep you near,

In times when you’re not here,

For I’ll try everything just to keep you close to

Me.

Reverie recurring

My love,

How my fading mind dreams of

You each night,

And the face that sunk a thousand

Stars,

The rock of promise

Where your eyelashes sit like the

Frayed hems of obsidian seas,

Appropriately sequinned,

Divinely delicate

They do dance in unison

As the feverish bows of Tchaikovsky’s

Violins,

These eyelashes,

Vacillating between bliss and sorrow…

Sorrow and bliss…

Shake the teardrops from your

Zircon duplet,

As they weep the warmest of tears

Beneath the blinking night…

 

And as one pair of eyes reluctantly close,

With the lasting image of the

Moon safely locked behind my eyelids,

Another will open,

To greet the morning sun once again,

And to love me, I hope,

Forevermore.

Indian summer

How cruel is Mother Nature,

So happy to stop

The beating heart of the winter clock,

When instead she decides to

Abrade the ebullient whispers of summer,

(Importunity is distressing),

With such abruptness and dispassion does she

Slash the lacquered cheeks of

Yellow Jasper,

Who eagerly hurries to reach her bed!

 

Oh!

And how cruel too is the English breeze,

So heavy-handed with everyone he meets,

So ruthless with his daily approach,

To wipe the tender smile from

The peony’s lips,

With only a trail of milky flesh left behind,

Blushing beneath wearisome skies,

Never to laugh

Again.

 

I’ll dream of an Indian summer instead.

Reverie

On such lonesome nights as these,

When the joyous pendant of tourmaline yellow

No longer drips from the sky’s neck,

My mind does seek abstraction,

A momentary distraction,

As my heart wanders through a

Crowd of fireflies,

Those nightly buttercups

Which do turn their eager heads

In search of kisses

So cruelly postponed,

Yet so carefully recreated in my

Febrile brain,

As my thoughts,

Dancing behind closed eyelids,

Like the coiled tendrils of a

Citrullus plant,

Turn to your mouth,

And though miles may separate me from you,

And you from me,

My face does still glow gold as the

Sun on your

Lips.

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