Hark ye, hark ye, lads and lasses!
New Year celebration flash-passes
and we are left with what?
Classical mood descended in hush on audience
mature, self-controlled, filigreed to perfection.
There is a time for grit and grime
but now we need to enunciate
There is a mood takes over mountains
roars over cataracts, thunders out joy
we parcel such moments in fine controlled gestures,
fearful to show, aware of the cloy.
Till white-foamed emotion whirls us to perdition.
Exhaustion seeps in concave glow of lower back
like the low growl of giant feline basking in sun spots.
I let tiredness wash over, climb each limb and nerve,
stretch in magical indolence, tendons brushed with honey gloss,
tea-fragranced warmth settling on my chest.
I burn in sulphur hang in haze
with slow-roast speed churn my emotions.
My smile fixed plastic in perfection
mind darts to places too slimy to mention.
Compare and contrast, compete and contain:
others’ pride, others’ achievements
bring nought but dismay.
Now frozen, now burnt in feverish alternates,
how burnished his horizons in crimson warrior hues
dial turned to scream point, fists on the fly.
If his life were a crystal ball to fathom
he would crush it to oblivion in snarly crunch of baubled prey.
No hope, no exit, no gambit for mercy.
Future smashed smithers underfoot.
I am linking this to dVerse Poets Pub – where, once a week, we have Open Link Night, so come and drop by and enjoy!