Sky in shades of ash grey
Showers flakes of artwork.
Swirling snow of silence
Smoothly descends dancing.
Serene sheet shines on land,
Sensing in stark stillness
Soft whisper of winter.
The Brown Grizzly Bear is so called,
not for its grizzled hair, grey-tipped
but because it is truly grisly, horrible!
(Ursus arctos horribilis)
This brown bear is gruesome and deplorable.
The amber Pizzly Bear is so called,
not for its swizzle stick.
but because it is a hybrid bear,
a Polar-Grizzly cross,
(Ursus maritimus × Ursus arctos)
The ash-grey Koala Bear is not a bear at all,
though it's nice and teddy-bear cuddly.
(Phascolarctos cinereus)
But the 'arktos' in its genus name, means 'bear'.
Its been wrongly named from the start,
the 'ashy-grey' pouched bear.
So there you have it!
Three bears, caught breaking and entering,
slagging off the language.
Down in the dumps today
Children work not play
The flies have swarmed
A stench has formed
Seagulls cry all day.
Down in the dumps today
Maggots pulse and flay
It reeks to hell
Children become unwell
Amidst a haze of decay.
Down in the dumps today
Life’s turned ash grey
Some children are gone
But nobody mourns
When waste rots away.
Down in the dumps today
Children restocked and stay
Given sticks to dig
Scavenge like pigs
Toy-landfill of dismay.
Where snakes rats
and broken glass
torment kids to this day.
By
David Kavanagh
magic oozes out of the sky
as it slowly turns
from a burnt orange hue
to a smoky ash grey
I look at it
as the grey slowly crawls into the orange
like a slow flood
consuming it whole
but the orange doesn't back down
the orange fights back with all its might
until the sky is just grey enough
for the orange to still be seen
the sky is now an orange-blue gradient
I will fight through this
Not a single tear was shed by you
when our relationship died
Instead, you put the first nail in the coffin
Yes, it was formaldehyde you ...
whose morgue heart had an elated attitude
When you put the next nail in the coffin
Those silver urn eyes
had a joyous flame, ash grey cremated view
As you put another nail in the coffin
Happy Deathday!
This was the karaoke repast song you played
While yet another nail was lip slammed in the coffin
You danced in a black widow dress,
at the grave sight of our premature burial happiness
Then put the last rite nail in the coffin
And placed a thorny rose on top,
letting your flirtatious dirt fall back to the earth
Smiling wide, as my cadaver heart crypt cried
Untitled
Written: by Tom Wright
February 2015
With ash grey silence the moon enshrouds us,
Few stars are observed and clouds are a plus.
A fog’s mantle melts as first light appears,
And the Heavens spill off a sudden burst of tears.
Lush greenery
Majestic scenery
Coconut trees wave in a track
Puff of clouds wave back
Droplets of rains
Fall again & again
Splash soggy ground
Bringing greenery all around
Village path air is so fresh
Heveanly to be here in flesh
Afar at a distance
Looks like timeless existance
Between hills a chimneys rising smoke
As we ride our cycles we are greeted by humble folk
Gentle moss lies still
Moulded on the broken door of the old mill
As into the distance we cycle away
From soil laterite to roads ash grey
Its my hope to raise the blooms
And hold this world into greenish rooms
Sometimes when the night
crawls upon me
I go out
to look at the people
who's faces have
slipped out
of their contours
slid down
to rest
on collars
features
dripping down
on the
ash grey asphalt
and
under lonely lampposts
everything
fades
into puddles.
© Gry W Christensen
Blurry reveries consistent to the end
in life’s limbo, the forest of deep secrets and sacred illusions
the surging existence that ignites words into creation
come
follow me
take my hands
as we journey through this hollow way
at a certain pace
at a certain rate
embarking on a certain race
a different road
an unexplored journey into another source
in a different base
and together
we shall build a different fate
as our scenarios are designed with nothing else but autumn leaves
as we fade into ash-grey-like whispers of the blur ...............
Cattle-cars filled with Jews,
Hot guitars wailing blues,
Pulsars beaming in the night,
Thoughts of wrong, desire for right,
Cigarette ash- grey and rigid,
German soldier, Russian front frigid,
Masonic poetic words far too turgid