Auckland Poetry.com

June Picture

In the enchanted dell, where grass is forever green,
I saw a carpet of summer birds, yellow as real butter
before it was made low fat to suit a slimming fad.
They took off, dispersed flew slowly on silent wings;
amongst thorny bushes that are seven hued green,
waiting for a lumbering troll to pass.

Last time I saw a yellow summer bird, it was sallow,
late September it had lived too long, sat on the sill
rain fell and it as soaked; opened the window to let
it in, could sit by the fire till spring. Too late, in my
hand it turned into fluff, blew dust off my hand and
I saw each particle disperse and fly on silent wings.

Butterfly (summer bird.)

Stygian Rhapsody

It struck me late at night that I could not remember
how my house looked like inside, and if I didn’t, how
could I find my way to the loo? But I could recall
the inside of every other house I had lived in, opened
doors and was met with intimacy, but the last door
I opened led nowhere; saw a blank screen that had
yet to be written on. I opened my eyes the darkness
undulated with a tiny ball of light, residue of the day
gone by. I tried to get up, but my lethargy was so
immense I could not move, feared I had had a stroke.

Sweat ran down my forehead across my mouth I felt
as I was going to drown and was ready to confess to
anything. Yes, sir I killed them all. Finally I was able to
move an arm; flex my fingers, and life seeped back
into my body. I got out of bed, but since I didn’t know
the inside of my house I collided with the wall and fell
back into bed again. I didn’t want to open my eyes but
had to if I was going to conquer my fear of darkness;
reluctantly I opened them again dawn had crept in and
I heard bird song there had been a stay of execution.