Short Hurtles Poems

a curtain is drawn
over the village -
hail hurtles down...

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The winding river
Hurtles its way to the sea
Gathering speed as it goes.
More streams join it's path
Yearning for the salt water
That wait at it's mouth....

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The hideous and the humble
Blood peppers falling snow
As world hurtles to the tipping point
Life chokes on ignited air
Wrenching love from hungry mouths
Stars fall without sound
Some weep helpless, day through night
Ever wondering how
Never knowing why ......

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Her hair blown in the infernal blast
As the train hurtles pass
hot are the rains rushing past
Falling on an ashen hued metropolis
her form is framed in Furious winds 
lightning, as sight transcends this domain
Her hair fair as raven wings 
Heat ripples in waves of engines thunder
Into this incandescent night....

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kismet

A strange sound in the village, not an alarm
It went on in short intervals
Perhaps they were tasting something we
We were not a part of.
After some time, the sound went on me
Nerves it frightened me it was 
The doom-laden telling of times to come when
Our world is aflame and hurtles through space
And all gold melts.
Ashes to ashes that is the way it goes...

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Where do i begin and where do you end
The distance between us outwards not expansive enough to hold our love
Molecules and atoms dance dizzly round us
Rain slows as it hurtles toward the earth to glimpse this love
Sunlight tendrils softly caress our bodies
Specks become mountains, oceans swell and swirl
and time counts its second
All life ends but my love continues
And staring deep into her universal eyes
My soul smiles....

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The moon, 
Just past full,
Calls down to the coral.
   Lunar  ballad pierces
Sea’s briny top soil.
Amorous chords
Penetrate past clown fish
Past pygmy sea-horses
Past the  anemone’s crown of thorns
Into the stony castle’s womb
Igniting a blizzard torrent of gametes,
 Kaleidoscopic confetti
Hurtles toward the surface
Reaching.  touching,  meeting
Achieving  consummation
 In the undulating reflection of
The moon.

KDavis...

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He keeps airborne, skimming over the grass
defying a specific gravity
of joy or fear.

He hurtles into a tunnel of space ahead.
The land accommodates his passage -
gives way.

A walleyed rapture, a blind bounding
the sky rolls over his whiskers
aiding the hares leaping heart.

He escapes the eye
barreling into nowhere until gone.

A waving grass
ripples into stillness once more,
reclaims the moment
the hare had just fled from....

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A locomotive crying out
As it hurtles down life’s tracks--
Sounds like soul to me;

Or the wind whispering
On every blade of grass
Dipping toes in every pond;

Or the diamond that we keep
In caves too dark and deep 
For any intruder to excavate;

Or the sermons of the Reverend Al Green;
Or the Force that guides and heals;
Or the reason for existence…

The soul, that which outlasts all else,
Sounds like the sweetest steam engine
In a myriad web of rails....

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