Sep 2017
And there it was.
Static streak of animal,
collecting feathers of snow.
I came across it on the walk home,
frozen bite of early evening
scrunching my bones.
Almost hit him with a foot,
my eyes adjusting to the sight
of a defunct hunk of fur.
Eyes like bullets of liquorice,
slack jaw and an ice-cream scoop
wound, a flush of sickly crimson.
That night I thought of it,
fantastic, an orange flurry
between trees.
A day later, with rock-heavy eyes,
a head swollen with cold,
I walked the way of before.
People nodded hello,
the path draped in a translucent drool
but the animal had gone,
hauled from its bed of death,
its memory a blemish of ruby
on a beach of boundless white.
Static streak of animal,
collecting feathers of snow.
I came across it on the walk home,
frozen bite of early evening
scrunching my bones.
Almost hit him with a foot,
my eyes adjusting to the sight
of a defunct hunk of fur.
Eyes like bullets of liquorice,
slack jaw and an ice-cream scoop
wound, a flush of sickly crimson.
That night I thought of it,
fantastic, an orange flurry
between trees.
A day later, with rock-heavy eyes,
a head swollen with cold,
I walked the way of before.
People nodded hello,
the path draped in a translucent drool
but the animal had gone,
hauled from its bed of death,
its memory a blemish of ruby
on a beach of boundless white.
Written: September 2017.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time for university, a 'pastiche' of sorts inspired by the work of John Burnside. As it is for uni, changes are possible. All feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time for university, a 'pastiche' of sorts inspired by the work of John Burnside. As it is for uni, changes are possible. All feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.
