The Poetry Warrior (c) Abigail Beaudelle - 2008.
All Poetry and artwork (c) the respective artists.
All Poetry and artwork (c) the respective artists.
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Crows Rest
Colin Smith
Driving West into the pink haze
Of day's end
I glimpsed the knotted spread of
Childhood dreams.
It called me, a slight voice deep within,
A wraith of youth
Longing to siren call those gossamer
Strands of joy.
Pulled in tight to the cracked, wrapper
Strewn verge.
Clambered short pants over that weather
Warped fence.
Walked slow, purpose set among the brass
Bright yellow.
A destination out, fingers tracing the
glistening
Rapeseed heads.
The days heat falling with each careful
Whispering stride.
The hairs raise on my arm beneath the
sweet
Breezes kiss.
The tree is old, bare, stripped bovine of the
Cracked Bark
At it's lower points then splatter painted
Pollock
Like upwards.
The branches hold my weight well as I
disco dad
My way up
So clumsy that I can hear the kids laughing
at my arse
Hanging free.
Finally I stop, from crows rest light an
L&B as the
Sun sinks on.
Darkness comes, stray dog across the
field, night
Leans in to greet me.
Colin Smith
Driving West into the pink haze
Of day's end
I glimpsed the knotted spread of
Childhood dreams.
It called me, a slight voice deep within,
A wraith of youth
Longing to siren call those gossamer
Strands of joy.
Pulled in tight to the cracked, wrapper
Strewn verge.
Clambered short pants over that weather
Warped fence.
Walked slow, purpose set among the brass
Bright yellow.
A destination out, fingers tracing the
glistening
Rapeseed heads.
The days heat falling with each careful
Whispering stride.
The hairs raise on my arm beneath the
sweet
Breezes kiss.
The tree is old, bare, stripped bovine of the
Cracked Bark
At it's lower points then splatter painted
Pollock
Like upwards.
The branches hold my weight well as I
disco dad
My way up
So clumsy that I can hear the kids laughing
at my arse
Hanging free.
Finally I stop, from crows rest light an
L&B as the
Sun sinks on.
Darkness comes, stray dog across the
field, night
Leans in to greet me.
Pages Apart
Pages apart
Each speech entwined, tailor made,
No ready rolled, off the peg solutions
To coax a positive reaction here.
Play things of the backroom boys,
Whittled away in smoke filled dens
Taking shape in those small hours
Of artifice.
Hi five time,
A footnote on the six O'clock, a paragraph
In the bubbling broadsheets, a snippet,
A sound bite for the Nations tea and toast.
Barnstorm,
Research and conjecture, the twain shall
Meet under hammer, sold to the smartest
Bidder. The truth sucked dry, bled of faith
And
Turned in its stead.
Pages apart
Each speech entwined, tailor made,
No ready rolled, off the peg solutions
To coax a positive reaction here.
Play things of the backroom boys,
Whittled away in smoke filled dens
Taking shape in those small hours
Of artifice.
Hi five time,
A footnote on the six O'clock, a paragraph
In the bubbling broadsheets, a snippet,
A sound bite for the Nations tea and toast.
Barnstorm,
Research and conjecture, the twain shall
Meet under hammer, sold to the smartest
Bidder. The truth sucked dry, bled of faith
And
Turned in its stead.