Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
kate Jul 2021
among the summer stupor,
the gleeful pounce

onto that that flies
on diaphanous wings

tracing secret silver spirals

small bursting berries in tiny flaxen fingers
blue blackberry mouthfuls
the boys of summer with indigo grins and legs akimbo

their chorale sweet and brimming between
the shrinking hours

a jovial furor against a backdrop of blue
kate Jan 2021
darkness on foamy peaks, on low valleys descended
as drooping moons divulge their divaricating secrets
ripening on blackened branches, spiralling across
orb-like - yellow bellied and full

along aerial courses, wind cresting through apertures
landing in cloying piles under windowpanes, moonlight flutters
glass refracts the silver limbs of light that unfold
upon themselves restlessly

bursting forth, a cagey night shifting on limbs
misanthropic and strong willed, bending its silver knees
into loamy earth - its shrouding body, dark and stirring
ocean-like, its tides move incessantly
kate Jan 2021
acuity soon softens, fermented by a sapid surf singing of elusive green tides and driftwood epiphanies left to litter dulce shores

each sun bleached body is fissured and crumbling, our freckled limbs akimbo across coquina terraces of fossilized froth, we trace the

speckles of sunburnt kisses between collarbones, as the scathing day's paramours, our bronzed shoulders are branded with mermaid embraces

at the calves of palm branches' sapless colloquy detailing tangy, cloven skies and the velvet undulations of acerbic white sands that tangle with infant foam

the ocean orates in guttural, white capped hymns which crescendo on shivering sand, sirens draped in cerulean blue murmur their tidal magic

and across our suntanned faces, the shadows of intumesced clouds rest, as wind carries the fragrance of droves of sea bitten fruits into salt-weary nostrils

our nomadic conversation shies and shimmers, surfing vagabond currents, the afternoon's tidal effervescence purses these escapades

in shivering boughs of sea mist, the ocean swathes shore-ridden limbs, the promised praxis of the sea as she croons from her maritime confines
  May 2020 kate
nivek
I sat on my toadstool
watching bees drink from Dandylions

I could see across the flat calm sea
a blue sky come to visit

I feign would dream a summers dream
but that poem is already written

I will go my own way
happy I was entranced for a moment.
Next page