I walked as a grey kid
lost in his own hometown streets.
When my slow mind
began to see more clearly
it saw brick dusted air
and a sunlight blotched with yesterday's scabs.
There were small parks in that part of the city,
where the shabby slept and fornicated,
a wilted grass
was dotted with used condoms
and patchworked with dog urine.
We thought it fine
to explore those sleazy acres
parents behind us, we running ahead.
as if we were discovering paradise.
The clouds would give way,
and a light fell upon this new world of ours
as if newly painted.
For a while, we kids saw each other as
playmates and not intractable rivals.
Later, back in the crowded reek
of the crumbling tenements,
we grew soul-blind once more.
We hoped that the God
we had been instructed to love
occasionally watched over us,
that perhaps once a week
He checked us all out,
from the far side of a city park.
PASTORAL
Yes I remember when this was all fields
Patchworked across the vale to chalky down
The cornfield and the pastures and the weald
That fed the hearts and bodies of the town
Yes I recall the footpath that we took
To reach the hamlet and the blessed lake
O’er styles and hedges and the little brook
Where we would stop to give our thirst some slake
Yes I can feel the wind upon my face
That cooled our sweat as we ascend the hill
And as we climbed our minds rose up apace
Then widened loosing bonds to our free will
Yes I now hold the memory in my heart
And see the images as I near sleep
Though they are gone they still remain a part
Of my own world, reside in spirit deep
Submitted: 15 August 2019
N/A in contest: Any Poem You Want to Write 180 words or less
By Caren Krutsinger
The moon a shawl over her shoulders
almost replacing his arms'embrace,
In her wine-glass pools of light floating
reflect the glow upon his face.
His deep-set eyes like summer ripples
carry her thought to tulip fields
Recalling sunsets when she first saw him
far from the city's unwinding streets.
Next to the old mill on a soft blanket,
patchworked from grass and falling leaves,
Its there He whispered hundred sweet nothings
The air was filled with a fragrant breeze.
Throughout this night She wanders lonely
Far from dry lands to evergreens,
Sailing alone above blue waters
to meet the author who built her dreams.
I love bluebells,
I like their deep scent,
the way they jingle invitingly in the spring breeze,
their delicate blanket patchworked by trees,
brief but bold blues against verdant greens, sparkling with white anemones.
This year I look at them and all they are doing is reminding me of the colour of your eyes.
Milltown, Shawsbridge in the 1980's...
When the sun had possession of the season
and tarmac was treacled by the temperature.
When we went to war with the wasps
and ventured wide eyed in 'the planties'
to the roped thrall of commandoland.
Back when 'mr freeze pops' and 'cherry coke'
was our sustenance against the beating sun.
When real music blared from ghettoblasters
and parents red raw slurped ice cold harp via can.
When shawsbridge was appealing
and patchworked in vibrant beach towels,
folks clustered in defeat of the sun.
Back when the Barclay had an arcade machines
and we cross pollenated each's bedrooms
to play Nes, Atari and Amstrad CPC 464.
Back when our longsuffering knees
were raw to the pavement
and rollerboots were means of transport.
When kirby was played and water pistols our means of defence.
Back when reality glimmered....
And summer shone with meaning.
S.J.C
Reversing Polarity
Spaced the green breeze
Rattled the verbs of leaves
Launching dart birds
In shoals
Over reefs of trees
Settle and rise
Settle and rise
Between shades patchworked skies
Immovable planet stasis
Catching
Feeding from suns
Silent sentinels
In growing years day streaming
On particles of light
Solitude’s echoes quiet
Voices of larks
Searching for ears
Hovered hearing in a domain of fields
Through slopes and the circled
Caught by bows
Grey pale to yellow
Meeting clouds
Still
So still
The natural calls
Loud
So loud
Green spacing the breeze
Rattling viridian leaves
Gliding gulls
Over reefs
Of trees
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