By the gloating rocks once its refuge,
The sun wallows in scarlet rages;
Glovers at the ticky-tacky cages,
Who feel naught of the coming deluge
From the lurching stream that knows no rest.
Each ripple is a Mont Blanc unsung
With snow-hunches grown out of dark grace,
The cragginess of each jagged face;
Burnt with the weight of burdens unflung,
More formidable than Everest
Blades of grass growing out of cement,
They ever knew passion, knew the pain
Of lorn oaths broken oft and again;
Thus Marianne from her Sherwood rent,
By the dripping of socks found her quest
As her sister shed a skin of ice,
And tucked it under an arm to walk;
Glided on water in flesh of chalk,
To see her crush pigments like head-lice,
Wring back stolen blood with savage zest.
[Written in response to Women in Black, by Marianne von Werefkin]
[First published by The Ekphrastic Review]
Spread your wings and fly
With me
Over fields and meadows
Sway
We fly so high we fly
Just fly with me my love
So sweet
Touching the fields of four
Leaf glovers
Just fly into the heaven’s
Way above clouds so
Thick
Into the abyss of heaven’s
Bliss
With hands held tight and
Flies so free
Above the moon and the
Sun
Without a care to follow
Me
Just flying into the planets
Stars
We circle the planets around
And about
As we taken flight so high and
Over above
Nothing but white thick fluffy
Clouds beneath our feet