Short Runnels Poems

ALONG

loch-studded moorland

bogs and runnels

and o'er the Highland Pass

antennae alert
I'll twist the wind

            to
              feed
                 my
                    Bonny
                         Lass...

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BRIEF  ROMANCE


Fell for a Scottish girl long ago.  Pretty as a picture,  but
Heart  as cold as an empty Edinburgh street  on a wet
January Monday morning, when the chiseled 
Craigleith sandstone blackened by smoke 
Repels  the rain from the Forth,
And the steep roofs pour 
Water into the runnels
Down the cobbled 
Streets....

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I am new lava flow
covered in dense sand,
the Mojave Desert of the soul.
I am the arid places,
the barren areas,
the well packed pebbles
too tight for seeds.
And in rare events,
when rain releases a prayer,
I quickly 
let the waters blow
though my hardened runnels
and glow like a nude vegetable.



Dean Walker...

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Celestial weeping - angel tears,
pouring from Arcadian spheres,
liquid sunshine from Gods own eye,
I kiss the rain as clouds drip dry.

Rich pearly drops - heavenly bliss,
quench the fire of my souls abyss,
crystalline rills that gush from high,
I kiss the rain as clouds drip dry.

Gentle runnels - watery grace,
baptise my body and my face,
raising my head up to the sky,
I kiss the rain as clouds drip dry....

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I have forged
light of distant
stars into galaxies
scattering diamonds trailing
meteor dreams sweeping
empty nights clean
of flame bursting
into a million
shards of white-
hot carbon poured 
down runnels to
hell from where
voices clamor for
air and slag 
burns fissures into 
stygian voids of 
inference pulled into  
the vortex of doubt 
shimmering in particles of light 
suspended from 
whence we came 
to where we 
shall return...

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That evening it rained.

He was glad the diva was dry up there on the warmly lit stage.

The cold rain found every opening in his casual attire,

rivulets ran in runnels seeking out soft parts.

He decided he disliked Puccini outdoors.

He imagines that the dark haired beauty,

the one now singing, chest heaving,

offers him shelter beneath those ample bosoms

she looked the kind of lady that would.

An hour later he swooned away,

wheezing in Tosca's arms....

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