morning commute

Frost coated fields
in glittering white
give way
to the dull grey
of the city,
huddled beneath
its brown winter cloak.

 

identity I

Identity accretes
like the scraps on the shell
of a decorator crab:

going home / evening commute

The censored commentary of the cardax
pursues me from the closing door
as, head down, I make my way
between towering blocks of grey.

elementals II: sow

Earth bound
and earth coloured
a slow-moving rounded hummock,
head down,
trundling,
rumbling like a tremor,
as she furrows the ground,
stolidly snout-ploughing,
golem-like in obedience
to her internal code.

If I must deal with shit…

Wreathed in the stench of
insincere mission, vision,
and values statements,
the hypocrisy
of auctioned off integrity,
the arrogant self-aggrandisement,
of impact and influence,
that nurtures nothing,
not even self-worth,
I day-dream of…

April witches

Like aspiring April witches,
but ones invited in –
seeing through another’s eyes,
feeling through their skin.
Second hand experience,
translated – therein blurred
a curious distant intimacy
grown from all these words.

Troglodytes

In the fetid dark,
slack jawed and vacant eyed,
they hunch
hiding from the sun.

Sunday morning ha’ sonnets

Sunday morning
peace is shattered,
without warning
ears are battered

bodysurfing/beached

Waiting,
watching,
until the perfect swell,
high and glassy,
rolls in.

morning haiku I

The windchime clatters,
thunder growls around the house –
winter come prowling.

The morning commute:
(hooray for isolation!)
bring laptop to bed.

Thanks Vixen of Verse, for the inspiration!