Stonehenge - coloured (unfinished)

By maisie

Thu, 04 Sep 2014
  • 1214 reads
4 comments
 

 

How the dryness of grass defeats us

the sallowness of yellowed failure, flint edged

catches at our deep pulled breath.

 

Tears at the teeth of Stonehenge as the tinge

of holes below the fabric of time erupts into

the slow thick air. Catch the soft waft of wind

 

as it sails by, and the spider caught on it's thread

billows on the boundaries of the updraft. Always

lands in the hair to be brushed off. Back off.

Certificate U
Poem
ElasticBand
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by Bee on

You have captured beauty with the misery, Maisie. I loved this poem.

Bee

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

me too Maisie. Maybe try "away" in the last line, instead of one of the "off"s

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Some lovely images in this atmospheric poem.

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

I liked the combining of the large images of the stones with the noticing of the spider. Rhiannon