Blue blush on the belly of eternity

It’s Saturday so I shuffled the magnets. All from one set again, the ‘poet’ set rather than the ‘original’. All I can say is that the oracle must have been at the mushrooms because I haven’t.

 

I remember how the flower

embraced the light

with a ferocious joy.

There is more poetry

in wet morning grass

than in this man of cold lips

and no laughter,

his secrets dark as his smile.

 

Ghost of a smile,

slow poison in your drink,

a word that hangs

in the air,

a perfume in the breeze,

then nothing but the dark.

 

 

From their breath

peace falls

in a many-coloured stream.

They are old,

but their magic is fire,

their laughter, a dark star,

shining in the night.

 

Fire haunts the night,

a cooling star,

slowly sailing the sky.

One word, and the universe

is less than a child’s picture,

a blue blush

on the belly of eternity.

 

 

 

Beneath the ache

Trying to get a cheerier message. This second one was as bad as the first, so I went for a third try.

 

Beneath the ache,

the pounding of blood

in blue shadow,

light, bare and bitter springs,

and the wind whispers,

rust will eat away

our love.

 

Dazzle dances on ice,

like morning stars,

laughing at the fire

flowering in the sky.

I sail away,

borne on the velvet rhythm

of perfumed words.

 

 

Dreams of shadows

It’s Saturday so I like to dabble in the world of fridge magnets. I’m not sure what to make of today’s messages from the oracle.

 

Black beneath the skin,

diamond gods above,

recalls a dream of shadows,

our bitter juices raining

into a stormy sea

of water, red as blood.

 

 

Watching moonlight,

the ship of sleep has fled

through misty water.

No dreams whisper, petal smooth

in the wind.

I wait in the shadows

for the sun.

 

Listen, it is almost dawn

One more magnet poem. It’s a nice one. Thank you, oracle (even if you can’t spell).

 

Between the longing

and the loving

is a cold lonely path,

but light and life

shine through the dark,

listen, it is almost dawn.

Coda

The oracle hadn’t quite finished. I wish she had, somehow.

 

This dark day

desire devoured the magic,

words melted,

kissed away,

the naked red rhythm

clouded the brilliant star

its fire died out.

Magnet poems

The first poem is the kind of message I like to hear from the oracle. The second is rather more sibylline…

 

Tendrils of summer

climb into gentle night,

leaving dawn to follow

with a rustle of rose boughs,

sweet as the breeze

wandering over lake water.

 

 

Wild winter breathes a spring song

above this frost-blanketed earth,

falling dark as root,

climbing with the vine.

Only the seed listens

to the moon,

and withered roses bloom.

 

With the river

A sweet Saturday thought from the oracle.

 

With the river

I run through the night

and dream a dancing star,

keep that moment near me,

to take your tears

and make of them

a song for peace.

 

Time

For Magnetic Poetry Saturday.

 

Timeless beauty in purples roses,

love soars with the wind,

sweet as honey,

juice of the moon,

but bitter death

in still water sits,

light and music rust red raw

beneath the sea.

The distance of a song

A poem from the oracle of the fridge magnets since it’s Saturday.

 

Quiet as stone,

light falls cold and blue,

covering the world

in clouds of frost.

Listen to the grass rustle

at darkest dusk,

wander with the wind,

as if Eden

was but a song from here.

 

 

This time

It’s Magnetic Saturday, time to play with the magnets and listen to the oracle. After sending a couple of sweet messages, the oracle clammed up and refused to give me the words I wanted. Just goes to show that these magnetic poems are not entirely the poet’s creation. I had to finish this one free hand.

 

Why is the path so long

from here to there?

And dark the wind

as rain rustles softly?

Where do you wander

deep in the night

when the moon grows lonely

and I sleep gentle?

The answers lie in the morning,

in the dew on the roses,

when I look in your face,

and you take my hand,

and you say,

This time, this day

and the night that will follow,

together.