Strokes of moonlight smother
the inflorescent
whispers of the smoke bush –
fighting, but wavering against twilight’s
ghostly dreams,
it drapes the water,
pondering depth and death,
and, whereupon streaks of my childhood run
wildly ‘til they bleed into the perfect pink wash –
disrupted only briefly by daubs of
my more morbid notions –
a thousand indigo butterflies
dotted like inky death
become pinned to the eerie flatness of still water
and life –
finally, my drowning memories
are absorbed by stagnant fluid –
the whispers are hushed in the black, dead air
where mosquitoes live instead,
and for the first time, I begin to thrive.
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Author: Anita Lubesh
I write poetry/prose/stories/short stories/verses for children/sketch/and have 6 chapters of a novel sitting there like that half eaten trifle in the fridge or bottle of Jack Daniels because something makes you afraid to eat it or drink... right now..
I am a proud Geordie from England's northern hemisphere and the beautiful city of Newcastle upon Tyne. I live with my lovely husband who came all the way from sunny California just for me, and my favourite animal, Bobble, our dog.
I am a member of Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth and wish we could all do more, especially today, when such a lot is wrong.
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In dreams comes death but also renewal – the hope that feeds us and keeps the darkness in shadow. Great poem.
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Thank you very much for your thoughts, Chris. And, I hope you’re doing well.
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All well thank you!
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