They are marching
Stomping their feet to the beat
Of a mechanical heart
Trudging a bloodless road
Away from the trenches
The silent attacks on repeat
Ripping and tearing apart
A system on massive overload

They are marching
They're making a quiet retreat
To fall back and make a new start
On the other side of the road

Tiptoeing on velvet vines
silky and smooth to the touch
we dance in the twilight shades
of subtle poetic lines
trying never to say too much
thus preventing that anything fades

Imagining alternative scenes
in flexible collaboration
we dream in adjectives and verbs
as sentences rush through our veins
sweet figment of imagination
all our civilised structures perturbs

Dancing lightly across the keys
our fingers and souls thus create
quiet symphonies on backlit sheets
wishful journeys across the seas
of what we dare only comtemplate
as we immerse ourselves in these beats

With petals of crimson
fragility
it caught their curious eyes
standing amidst the sturdy
wholesome and healthy
straws
all swaying
to the whispers
of the gentle summer breeze

It stood there
a tall stranger
among them
not pretty like the rose
not timid like the violet
and without real purpose
but colour
and its ruffled capsule
of secrets

They spotted it
saw its colour
decided to pluck it
take it away
for its floral beauty
and put it on display
in a crystal vase
somewhere
until the petals fell

It died
without beauty
and with nobody's lament
within minutes
of leaving
the rugged field
within hours of finding
its purpose

I saw a flower
Burned by the summer sun
Withered by winter's cold
It had not felt spring
For years

Then it happened
A lightning cracked
And fire swept through
The garden
Rain followed
But the fire consumed
Everything
Left a pile of ashes
On the ground

But now it rises again
From ancient seeds
Which the fire didn't ruin
To greet the spring
In bloom

A crowded platform
chilling sunlight
family witing
for a train home
girls playing
Dad watching
Mum dreamily
gazing up the platform
past the strangers
into the empty air.
It's a cool, windy May afternoon.
Out of the blue
a heatwave
a rush
adrenalin to her heart
HIM slowly approaching
on the crowded platform
determined
dark
dangerous
deceptive
Young!
A dark figure
tall
elegant
graceful
hair like black flames
licking marble skin
eyes like mercury
poisonous
and HE stopped!
Chatted
for they knew HIM
and HE got on the train
with them
sat with them
toxic air
blurring her senses
and HE travelled with them
for a while
silently negotiating
a price for her soul.
And HE left them
as the train stopped
girls tired
Dad focused on a game
Mum slightly
distant...

I know I should stop criticising
Every minuscule error in revising
The grammar in here
I should not interfere
And I really should stop analysing

But I cannot erase what I see
And the teacher insists inside me
That I share what I know
About grammar and how
To revise before posting for the world to see

Your and you're are some major sinners
They make good poets look like beginners
Plus confusions in tense
Make them seem rather dense
And that's sad when they should look like winners

Sweetness
In
The soft flavour
Of vanilla
To savour
Generously administered
So pleasing and cool
To numb heated
Senses

Craving

Fire
In the violent rush
Of peppers
To accommodate
Necessary complexity
So raw and depraved
To set aflame
All buds