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Simon Soane Sep 2016
You promise green
&
then grow
with splendid aplomb.
Your fantastic encroachment
verdant & happy;
branching a reach
to beyond.
Simon Soane Sep 2016
Many people have phobias in this life,
what for others seems innocuous fills them full of strife,
some can keep firmly on their lid
when they see an arachnid,
they are calm and serene
but then cower when they see forked lightning beams.
Some can stroke a snake
but when thinking of flying begin to shake,
or can skip through massive open spaces with joyful vigour
but when slightly confined begin to quiver.
Me?  I found great white sharks most perturbing
even a picture of one was completely disturbing,
their visage draining the light from the air,
I saw a totally cold demented stare,
terror lurked in every photographic depiction,
like reading a letter calling me to conscription,
I felt briny constriction,
I'd shiver at an image of a wake they’d left in the sea,
that’s made by a thing that has the death glare of Ted Bundy,
making ominous mist,
this big fish is as crazy as Albert Fish.
Smelling blood from far away, never needing to sleep,
these great white traits gave me the creeps;
barely leaving a silhouette in the sun,
but with the ferocity of Attila The ***,
marauding silently to selected prey
even the water gets out of the way.
The seal was just chilling, thinking of going home,
he’d had enough of a daily roam,
about to paddle back in leisurely slow
but then it appeared from below...
a serrated chasm charnel pit,
Atlantis nuclear bombs would look like it,
fanged latch on, a phantasmagoria spectacular;
it bites for keeps this oceanic Dracula.
The aqua fills with gushing red,
it submerges, fully fed.
Anything to do with them would send me to terror filled gorge,
The Reef, or Sharky and George,
I’d scream on instant at the thought of a fin
that dorsal jut carrying sin.
But then one day when I was cowering in the kitchen after one had surprised me on page 15 of The Metro News,
I thought “Si, you gotta banish these deep sea blues.
You can’t keep dropping your pizza at the merely the sight
of a dreadful gaping awful great white.
It’s not a good state of head to engage with fear,
especially with something that’s not even here.”.
So a couple of days later when I was pretty ******
I was like “right, let’s have it you massive fish!”.
I picked up the newspaper and looked right at one,
initially my startle went to a million from none,
but I held my nerve and slowly the burst of scare began to ebb,
I gingerly untangled myself from this great white web.
Don’t get me wrong like getting over anything it took a bit of time,
I could be whistling through Town feeling fine,
and then see an advert for Mega Shark V Crocosaurus and feel a hint of chill in my spine,
but as the minutes turned into months I could handle impromptu shark,
a pic of one wouldn’t disrupt the larks,
or cast a brief pall on a sunny day in the park.
Now I can watch Blue Planet without apprehension,
in fact when David says “great white” it gets my attention,
in an inquisitive sense of “let’s see what these guys have got to give,
we’ve wasted years but now let’s live!”.
I love the malleability of the mind and it’s super anoint,
it can dimmish with ease what seemed like fixed point,
ingrained weighty states can be waved through;
foggy mire to brilliant blue.
What can appear to be etched for rest of the days
can just be a shackled phase,
a bricked up room growing doors.
Ahh, it’s Saturday, I think I'll watch Jaws.
Simon Soane Sep 2016
The new cold
& what was sun
congregate
in autumn.
Simon Soane Sep 2016
All events
about see,
sails risen
with homing precision;
never lost at sea
when you’re
looking at me.
Simon Soane Sep 2016
So quick to make you gone,
although you will go
soon
but,
for now,
you could brighten a waking
with made days
under easy sun,
the simple
with aplomb,
being all you are;
assured with here.
Simon Soane Sep 2016
Far
In far muddy ground
you’re dry land,
thickening clogs
blocked with cease
are not beyond your fixing reach;
cautious steps become ballet,
the
dancing for you.
Simon Soane Aug 2016
Perspective is strange,
it encompasses
many a range,
like when I see Poppet the ****
my joy soars with bliss,
sweet tabby cats don't come much better than this;
I want to hear you purr,
you ace stripy rocket,
I love you lots, Poppet.
But then, to mice it's,
Is that terror getting near
should we plan a run,
torturing us to death
is her idea of fun,
she'll wreak with clawing havoc
& deadly feline mirth,
she'll eat us as she's smiling
& extinguish us from earth;
you're toxic, Poppet.
The juxtapose of difference
stampeding in the air,
to one she rests in bed,
to others coiled in lair.
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