Details |
Claire Thom Poem
The world is open now,
it´s not like before.
There are so many things
we can´t simply ignore.
Wash your hands, stay apart,
wear a mask on your face.
I´d hoped after lockdown,
we would live with more grace.
It´s called the “new normal”,
what a ludicrous term.
But have things really changed?
I fear we´ll never learn.
Copyright © Claire Thom | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Claire Thom Poem
An octopus asked
a squid for some ink, to pen
a tentative tune.
Some turtles shelled out
for tickets sold by sharks.
Urchins snuck in for free.
The Sun dimmed the lights
on the Atlantic stage, as
dolphins waved moonbeams.
An orchestra of oysters,
pearl jammed with the mussels and
the clams crowd surfed.
A cool crustacean
grabbed the mic while a cod played
the bass on the rocks.
Copyright © Claire Thom | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Claire Thom Poem
Light metalic wings
reflect dazzling swords of past
warriors. At peace.
Copyright © Claire Thom | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Claire Thom Poem
The roasting Sun
dances on sharpened steel
blades slicing delicate skins.
Blood-red stains spread
as flesh is cut open
and exposed.
Innocent fruits
flung from the wooden slab
into oily flames
as hot as hell.
Silent screams sizzle while
salt is added to the wounds.
Identical, Italian flour soldiers,
cut and moulded perfectly,
are ready to be sacrificed.
Colliding in burning waves
they drown.
In a terracotta pot,
perfumed leaves tremble
and fear their fate.
Ripped from succulent stalks.
An instant death.
Cool, calm ceramic,
on pure white linen -
the final resting place.
Buried under grated, crumbling yellow earth
and tiny, cracked, black fiery rocks.
Copyright © Claire Thom | Year Posted 2020
|