Prosaic Moods

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http://www.swissinfo.ch

[Precision]

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

obligate

gracefully modulate.Kite

[Joy]

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.

[Weariness]

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.

[Envy]

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.

Mountain

[Anger]

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.

Underheard.

I am linking this to dVerse Poets Pub – where, once a week, we have Open Link Night, so come and drop by and enjoy!

Precision Forever Eludes Us

When I swerve to pounce

I know! I am sure! I trap it with a single clasp!

Harvest-full  my hands are, with precious, rarest cargo.

Yet when I open them, they dangle

bereft and bare.

 

When I nail it on the board for spread-eagled scrutiny,

its beating heart flutters elsewhere.

Missing the target, pinpricks will render

Superficial shrills into confetti thrills.

No capture, falling,  F

all

ing

Quick shake-off –

nothing but dust –

back in ring to entice and encircle

voluptuous forevers and nevers,

untamed, unbowed, unrepentant.

 

I always fail.

Is there valour in trying?

Defeat feels anything but…

 

Next time –

always next time –

the vision will be luminous.

Sounds will surge forth, perfectly aligned.

Until then…

 

Here’s to the missing.

goliathus.cz

It is Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets Pub – and have they got something to celebrate! An anthology of some of the best works of the pub regulars is now available on Kindle and in paperback. Much drinking, merry-making and reciting of poetry will be involved, so do join us there!