When the world was youthful
spiderwebs sang as they were spun.
Language was woven in the air
as accents of winds and trees
conveyed by an eloquent sky.
Untrammeled meadows annunciated
upon the lips of dens and burrows
scooped by shrew, mole, and vole.
Fresh bathed daisies signed a speech
as they swayed,
buttercups birthed calligraphy’s of sunlight.
Giddy rills gave voice to fritillaries
that flew to the sun or moon.
Words were idioms painted upon
the melodious leafage
of the up-risen and rising.
Then that shaggy brat
the primordial ape it grunted forth,
translating its gripey gut
through the clack of a creaky tongue.
Guttural and gregarious
it learned to babble and
belch an oral discordance.
It yapped and yawped,
yawped and yapped
until a spoken language
verbosely pivoted to prolix
polluting the very airy air.
Then it was
that a nascent poet boldly stood
rhyming would with could
until even the dumbest of his tribe
understood
and cheered him fit to bust
while the green grown world
with all its idiomatic kin
lost the will to express
as before
for the fluent earth again.
Categories:
yawped, poetry,
Form: Free verse
DISQUIETING
moonblued crooks stoneblack built
granite rough shadows sliced thin
adorned in fleece flossed films
drinking
sour grapes from acid cups
diced moon rinds with a
meagre shine
yawped vaunting thoughts of
nymphatic cold visions that
hold no pairing decisions
starving fantasies deplete
desperate food for thought
seagreened darkpurpled
dreaming we were perfect
and we were….
we didn’t hear or see
the fear
bubbles about to break
we rose with caution
toward the skies
and died
satisfied
© Kim van Breda-25 September 2015
Categories:
yawped, word play,
Form: Free verse