Oh my words – poem

oh my words
where will you go?
spilling out of my mouth
like flies,
like moths,
like butterflies,
like all the winged things
that scatter themselves
on the breeze

oh my words
where will you find yourselves?
tumbled over oceans,
buffetted by hurricanes,
a line drawn
from my mouth,
my fingers
to those
ears, those eyes,
those distant minds

drawing us closer.

Another for Daily Inklings. 


Headphones – poem

Take off your headphones and listen to the world to the music of the rain on the tarmac, to the clink clink clink of rope on the metal pole to the sss sss sss from the earphones of the kid next to you on the bus, who has his eyes closed and is thinking about summer and the rolling rise and fall swelling sound of the surf, and the sirens that pass in the night, and the rock and the pop and the jazz that fades like shade between one car and the next as you walk past them all, queueing to leave the city, and the loud demand of the herring gull that nests in the cliff of the tower that was built by men with rattling trowels and shouts that echoed across the empty site, and wolf whistles for each pretty girl that wiggled past, quietly knowing that she was dressed in her best, in a bright cotton dress, with white gloves, and her heels tap tap tap on the paving stones, and her purse tightly clasped, and the breeze in the trees sings a soft song and scatters blossom on her shiny hair, and she smiles, and listens to the hum of traffic crossing the bridge, and the squeal of the door on the bus, and there you are, looking out, and now take off your headphones and listen to the music of the world.

A poem for Matthew at Daily Inklings. 

Objects at rest – a poem

Whisper a lullaby now for the universe,
a song of cold spaces unfolding through eons,
a slow sliding movement of planets away
from the core, from each other, adrift.

Murmur a tale of the dying of light,
of the wandering stars that break out from
the tender embrace of their own gravitation,
to hang lonely, unloved, bleak and lifeless, but free.

Sing the unfolding of entropy, blooming
and spreading like virus across space and time
’til each atom is single, and spinning alone
in the deepening dark,

in the silence.

A poem for the Daily Inkling prompt – Objects at Rest. That made me think of Newtonian physics, which led me on to this poem – which, again, ignores the context of the prompt. However, I’m a poet, so I can do what I like. 

It’s also an attempt at iambic pentameter, for the dVerse prompt tonight hosted by Frank – a master of rhythm and rhyme. I tend to write in short lines, so iambic pentameter is really tough for me.