MoP, Day 7

shades of cherry and persimmon

under trees with leaves like tears

in breezes laced with moonlight

with roots curling into years

MoP, Day 6

she ran in front of me
patter patter, bare feet on cobblestone
branches whipping fragile feathers
of blood across our cheeks

her smile flew across her face
like her hair, crazy in wind
her words were incessant
never ending
like a broken pipe that
one day
fills
a
reservoir

the castle loomed above us
I felt myself melt
beneath its stare
vines crept across the walls,
eyeing us off, sizing us up

the air grew colder, quieter
ever her voice melted away
though the words kept coming

MoP, Day 5

waves mulching the shore
into a soup of
life, fresh and current
and death

shards of what once lived
preserved over millennia
a cocktail of salt and sand
pieces of an ancient earth

like man-made glass
jagged edges worn smooth
Nature is patient
until we are all returned

to what we once were

MoP, Day 4

(AN: This one is inspired by the heat, as it is literally too roasting to think of anything else. Red fireant hotwater chilli dog. Okay, I'm done now)

perspiration

a crashing collection of sibilance

in the mouth

and in the slickness

between valleys of flesh

MoP, Day 3

hissclinkwatersteel

Victoriana bustles
and spaceman helmets

an army of bronze cogs
in a steampunk paradise

MoP, Day 2

the vapours of the dead
rise, mingling with
blooming flowers of poison gas

blood red, Agent Orange,
the purple
of a bruise

trees of flame burn
hearts of mortal meat

and civilisation hums
on the edge of a new day

Poetry

MoP (Month of Poetry) takes place in January and is coordinated by Aussie children's author Kathryn Apel and you can find out more about it here. I have decided to take part for the first time this year (which also helps with #4 of my NY resolutions - see previous post) but I haven't formally signed up. I'm just going to potter along quietly and post them on my blog as I write them. At this stage I plan to post all of them here, that is, one a day, but if for some reason I decide I'd rather not attach it to a blog with my name, if it turns too personal or something, I'll keep it to myself. Disclaimer: I AM TERRIBLE AT POETRY. You've been warned.

So, numero uno:

moon, fat, yellow
hanging wet and spider-like
windows made of tree branches
and stars
glowing
an upside-down sun