Ring sonorously, industrial mega-chime, for which the shallow art is devoid of form, another tree's shadow in time limping passed the finish line, denoting curators in the museums of cunning that too ran dry, but whirr it does, like insectoid wings, and that which promoted took the win.
whirr of wings
above my head loudly roar....
clematis petal moves
Acoustic Shadows 4-8-26 Craig Cornish
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Acoustic Shadows
As screen doors slam an audible footprint of sound
Echoes in phonics of ice in glasses
And tinkling bells of ice cream trucks.
The solstice ripens
Growing large in the splash of rainbirds
And telltale whirr of hummingbirds at feeders
As humidity buzzes, the breath of summer’s envoys
Sound out a boneless resonance
With chords that tease and tantalize
Alluring in fleeting notes hatching hazy inklings.
Haunting memories of a solstice oratorio renewed,
Veiled in the caress of a mirage,
Reverberate in noisy shimmers of Luna’s fullness.
Ripples of ghostly illusions speak in clues
Like bards of déjà vu
When sounds trickle down furrows of skin and soil
Leaving hints that foreshadow dusky shades
Recalling the hum of warmth in cold bones
And cues that foretell of the season of crickets.
do not watch the shadows for they lie
nor listen to eons of whispers sigh
be still and let the dust fall where it may
hush not the voices that will come to play
listen for the whirr of passing time
that distant thrum the soul cannot define
let go a simple chant to set it free
in doing so re-find the me of thee
doubt to let the seed of wisdom plant
knowledge of what you can… and can’t
exhale and know the beauty of its gift
to cause time, tide and sands to shift
reach to touch that distant unseen sun
as you sit, knowing now, that there is one
Monday morning sneaks through shack and grime,
Bullets whirr where drug barons plot their trade,
Gatas tread gingerly.wasting hours and time.
The spaza hums,mugs chime,Rooibos Tea in the lane,
Bambinos sidestep shadows,mae geri into dustty tins,
Old timers murmur incantations under the day's first pain.
Smog sprinkles from braai stands where mamtanies fry,
Pirated Kalashnikovs twinkle in the sun's first glare,
Yet souls beat steady,declining lies.
Klevahs shuffle,wallets empty,agrrements whispered fast,
Tiny tots peep through windows,hearts throbbing loud,
Even in agony,a tenacious hope holds steady steadfast.
Through shacks,mirth trembles,sharp but bright,
The day starts with grit,with pain,with dreams,
In this dream struggle, the spirit fights for light.
soft as a butterfly’s kiss
invisible as a dragonfly’s wings
busy as the whirr of the honey bee
tasty as a honeysuckle trumpet
familiar as the mourning dove’s song
lazy as ol’ Mud Creek flows
comfortable as well-worn slippers
happy as an angel in flight
comforting as lullaby lows
secretive as Geisha fans
polka-dotted as dark crystal skies
clouds mimicking monotone artists
a color palette as brilliant as Monet
Sleepless
Dogs are howling.
Cats are yowling.
Stomach's growling.
Just want a nap.
Mowers mow.
Blowers blow.
Planes are low.
Please, a bit of kip.
A fly astir .
An AC's whirr.
Roaring roadster.
Just forty winks.
Telly's off.
Party's over.
Almost aslee...
Have to pee.
-Grim
Each night after the evening meal
there was never a discussion
as to who would wash the dishes
and who would do the drying up.
My mother was the washer,
my sister and I did the drying up.
Hot steam would rise from the sink
before plates were plunged
deep in foam and scrubbed
with a brush - we would wait,
tea towel in hand to pounce
on the first plates to come out,
rinsed and white -
dishes were easier to dry
than heavy pots
and fiddly knives and forks.
It was a time for talk, for laughs
and sometimes snuffled back tears -
everyday life lived within the space
of our touching elbows.
I can still feel the tea towel
in my hand wet and warm
with those blessed memories.
Seventy years on, I bend down
and load the racks of a dishwasher
with soiled tableware from
the evening meal. Its quiet whirr
will fill the winter silence
and play a soulless ditty when
the washing and drying up
is done.
a labyrinth of feelings twist me up
Covid shot put me into a semi-dead-zone
warmth of sun gives me a glimmer of hope
whirr of air conditioner annoys my dog ears
I am fearful of my giant charging pony dogs
they both weigh more than I weighed as a bride
I feel refreshed by the coolness of this October day
Other feelings felt simultaneously refuse to take the lead.
back door screen opens
covey of doves' wings whirr~whirr....
housewife steps into sun
hummingbirds whirr round feeder
she stands still while whirr round head
Tears Got No Pain
For Daisy Kirui
Can you hear the call far the yonder?
The still and clear mystery that afternoon? When Daisy took her heart to see you her son? And...And you still ponder?
"It's over, son, you're the sun... “I’ll keep to remind you.”
It hurts to remember the dispiriting efforts to gauge you, the absurdity, sudden bout of a liar,
and she still saw you her favorite measly "thing"
It's worth no mother's heart away from your pain she took-.
"Whirr your mind and try to shut down the sinking regrets"
The detention of guilt, folding and engulfing, "Son, turn it up, your star is rising"
Daisy made you believe in yourself,
and she turned to be the fairest person you ever met "You're bigger than your wrongs..."
And the tears flew...
And pain- pain taking a toll of staggering wonder Shy, blushed by her charming nature-.
That afternoon, dear son, should render joy.
No longer should tears motion you to run a guilt folding table its joy, rather than pain.
Be prepared all you young'uns
The golden years aren't always golden
Looking ahead when I was younger
Thought, “what a fantastic notion”
Life would be a blast lounging around
Enjoying my life at its best
Sorry to have to burst your bubble
Coz here comes the real test
You wake up early each morning
Ready for come what may
But it isn't too long before you realize
You have no plans per say
Suddenly you've become very aware
You're not needed the way you once were
You still have so much to offer
But life has passed you by in a whirr
The hardest thing for you to get used to
The fact you're no longer the star
The world is still singing and motoring along
But you're not driving the car
So be prepared all you young'uns
The golden years aren't that golden
Enjoy life before the inevitable happens
When time passes by in slow motion
In the silence
There is a humming
A hint of life’s
Forever whisper.
The whirr of atoms
Spinning galaxies
Iron rails singing
Un-clappered bells
Repeating a lost call
A vibratory vastness
Seeking validation
A raindrop
Lights flicker,
buttons ping,
new clicks whirr
in the beautiful machine.
My head slides,
my eyes turn, peer in,
gaze:
magnetized by novelty, in this tiny
maze, slinking ever further, further in.
Purring springs exhale steel-sweet breath;
my narrow eyes glide between busy twirling cogs;
my ears perceive the melodies of electronic hums.
Then, snap!
I failed to hear the mind hiss
inside its trap.
Summer Minstrels and Songsters
Crickets
Summer songsters
Music of the night
Back porch lullabies, serenade
Singers
Newborn
Cicadas buzz
Yawn and stretch in warm sun
Bright eyes see magnolia trees
Minstrels
Summer
Fireflies twinkle
Magic song of stars
Like suspended bits of glitter
Flash Dance
Buzzing
Grasshopper tunes
Vibrate like a drumline
Invites lovers to sing along
Duets
Chirping
Katydids trill
Rhythmic beats of improv
In pulsating choruses
Of blues
Whirr of
Dragonfly wings
Soft downbeats
Solstice troubadours sing alto
Crooners
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