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I'll hold you in this stillness
where the cusp of the world is a peach
and the distant flickers of chilled water
remind us of existence,          of a pulse.
Written: August 2022.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time. A link to my Facebook writing page and Instagram page can be found on my HP home page.
The image shows
a pink corkscrew,
confetti petals
chatter down, around
in matrimony, static
splinters that fizz at
****** junctions,
jugular welt to
frills of magenta
make a blushing cheek,
pucker trumpet that
shoots from contused
marble eye.
Written: July 2022.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time based on an image of a stained seahorse that was nominated for the Sony World Photography Awards 2022, taken by Arun Kuppuswamy Monhanraj. A link to my Facebook writing page and Instagram page can be found on my HP home page.
call a crime scene
there was a bang cracked
the day wide open

flip through the images
like police reports
who's arresting me next

neckerchief suits you
and the galaxy dances
on your ceiling at night

could be I'm seeing you
with a new prescription
shake rattle and roll

can't handle the bolts
imaginary electricity
is your skin plugged in

name may be cinnamon-made
or strawberry sauce but
Monday isn't a Sunday

to the bottom of it
red hair resuscitation ring me
if anything changes
Written: July 2022.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time. A link to my Facebook writing page and Instagram page can be found on my HP home page.
and I never knew you
and you’ll never know me
but when I think

of you it’s your name,
like the clouds
cradle your memory,

over Star City or as
far as England,
or maybe flying,

sunlight signal,
a teenaged smile
never not alive,

forever with your
future years at the
tips of your fingers
Written: June 2022.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time. A link to my Facebook writing page and Instagram page can be found on my HP profile.
Ten years ago today, teenager Skylar Neese was killed in Pennsylvania, United States. Many years ago (I don't know how), I stumbled across a story about her ****** and for some reason it has been in my memory ever since... maybe the circumstances of it, or that we were a somewhat similar age (Skylar was born in '96, me in '93). Every now and then, her name resurfaces in my mind.
Recently I looked online and discovered that the ten-year anniversary of her passing was coming up and I knew there and then that I wanted to write a poem. Obviously, I did not know Skylar (we grew up in different continents for starters) and I knew I would not be able to say much, but nevertheless I have produced this piece, keeping it deliberately simple.
So although I'm here in England, I'm sure many who knew and loved her will take some time today to turn to the sky.
it is an especially warm day -
you drink orange juice
straight from the carton -

like many - a time for legs
on display - off and on
buses - but inside

a nametag states Harmony -
provides me with
a throat-cooling solution

before you sit in silence
with music I cannot hear -
drinking juice from the carton
Written: June 2022.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time. A link to my Facebook writing page and Instagram page can be found on my HP profile.
the bees engage
in their erratic dance
again

black ball jive
skedaddle round
flowered flutes

rippled heat brings
drink of summer
under sky blue
Written: May 2022.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time. A link to my Facebook writing page and Instagram page can be found on my HP home page.
Now the dark
ripples in

charcoal black
silent waves

and we are
christened by

the eclipse
mute motion

like a swallowing
gloomy deluge

but only
the day’s cessation

skin shed
installs night

brings end
to start again
Written: April 2022.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time as part of Savannah Brown's escapril challenge. A link to my Facebook writing page and Instagram page can be found on my HP home page.
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