Anomaly: Favorites

There's a quiet murmuration
Of figments of my imagination
Dreams and broken notions
Feelings and emotions
Swirling and rearranging
Into ever-changing shapes in my mind

There are absent gods and howling dogs
And the broken backs of the poor
While jugglers perform tricks with wealth
As nobody seems to care anymore
Amidst marching boots as children shoot
And hope lies dead on the floor

There seems to be a ghost somewhere
Wandering high in purple mountains
And low in deep green valleys
And this roaming soul may well be
A kind of long lost truth
Inside my hidden mind

By Phil Roberts

Oct 2017 Anomaly

Mediaeval Muse

Oct 2017 Anomaly

Pagan Paul

Mediaeval Muse

.
A gemshorn and a mandolin
strike up counterpoint melodies,
as a harp and viola
caress the notes of a minuet.
Soft waves of music creep
around the joy of the Hall,
cuddling the fibres of granite stone
with a warming fire for all.

And she steps to the fore,
slippers of silk gliding so slow,
eyes as blue as robins eggs,
smile sweet as a full moons glow.
Hair laced with summer flowers,
a long dress of velvet green,
and the shawm she is ready to play
held lightly by fingers so keen.

Her tongue moistens shyly,
as the reed approaches her lips,
with fingers dancing over holes,
and deftly into a trance she slips.
Descending chords in choral hue,
drip colours into an aching heart,
the sweetest of mediaeval muses,
playing well her minstrels part.

© Pagan Paul (21/10/17)

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Shawm, Gemshorn - mediaeval musical instruments.
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#poetry #muse #mediaeval #minstrel #shawm #blackmoresnight

Oct 2017 Anomaly

Conversing with the Demon

Oct 2017 Anomaly

Pradip Chattopadhyay

Conversing with the Demon

Love stories are not meant to be lived
you know that from the deleted faces
and vanished traces
of the ones once most valuable to you.

I don't get you I said
don't I feel a regret
for the women i loved
but was never able to live with

don't they still haunt me?

Regret is not the word
the man was adamant,
it's more a mourning for your failure
a tormenting reminder of an undefined deficiency
that you were not up to them
or in the wrath of missing the target
they were not up to you
and then he fired the killing shot

what you remember is not the love
years have wiped out the details
leaving you with the embers of unaccomplished missions
which in the first place
you didn't deserve to be a part of.

I hated his departing words.

True love lives in the stories
and love stories are not meant to be lived.

Oct 2017 Anomaly

Crumpled and broken

Oct 2017 Anomaly

samantha

Crumpled and broken

My heart is like a piece of paper.
i nurtured and protected it, shielding it from hurt.
And then one day i gave it away...to you.
i felt safe...and loved...for awhile.
i felt warm and overjoyed.
Until you crumpled the paper a little.
It was an accident and you didn't mean to.
So i forgave you, i overlooked reality
Until you crumpled the paper again.
And this continued until one day you ripped the paper.
Until you tore it in half and let it fall to the floor.
And all that remained was crumpled scraps.
i took those scraps and eventually taped them together,
trying to put the pieces back where they belonged.
But once you crumple a piece of paper,
you can never completely smooth it out.
It will always be a little crumpled.
It will never be the same.

Oct 2017 Anomaly

a flower

Oct 2017 Anomaly

sydney

a flower

i have just bloomed
and i am already wilting away