“Daisy Hill”
a garden to please
distant, yet ever near
in splendid hue.
Yet here now
the chill of winter’s
wrath, which initiates
spirited breath.
Tenderness
upon the bypass where,
memory does walk
through days gone by.
“Manor Garth”
place of sorcery
speculator, astute
evil and wry.
Industry
without face without
grace, a mechanical
tragedy here.
A shop floor
for humanity
searching, if only to
plead sanity.
Amber leaves
rattle the naked highway,
like windswept flocks from
mountains high.
Dry stone walls
history riddled shout,
along country roads
and velvet sky.
“Cuckoo Nest”
guardian of the moorside,
stone walls devoid
living blood wilt.
Millstones prise
out a condolence yet,
parched with canopy in
“Nab wood” Built.
Rock’n’Roll
ricochets upon
“Chelker” A mind in tune
harmony wise.
Bicycle
breaks the silence of night,
before rolling clouds
will the sunrise.
© Harry J Horsman 2022
Categories:
speculator, nostalgia,
Form: Free verse
Auto Pilate
is carrion klaxon blaring
a false viral alert
The warning signal says cadavers don’t vote:
“Let not your lying eyes
believe this smear currency contagious hoax”
With pandemic fear spreading,
speculator pockets get fatally hurt
False profits on a spit propellor decline
Supplies warehouse withering on a purchase vine,
bad news ain’t getting no spin message rebate
As more people dying are multiplying
Autocratic vexation —
Viral cause is venture capitalist absolutely dismissed
Free market con-fidence in a virtual free-fall
Publican procrastinators watch
as the body count mount
The price of human life don’t add up to much
Global crisis ... impending plane of imminence crash
Priceless products in the debt cargo hold were sold
at a discount infection rate
Auto Pilate hollow hope cry,
while washing disdain stained hands:
“High kill yield is a ghastly good time to buy!”
Categories:
speculator, death, sick, trust, world,
Form: Tristich