Screaming Shame #Quadrille

screaming windscreaming wind-tree-asitcomes

Foul words on screaming winds
attach to me vicious lies.
Soft in approach,
loud in defiance –
suckers lavish wounds
already frayed –
betrayal saps my strength.
Let its scorched touch
be enslaved by innocence,
and mercy unknown to me,
drop gentle from heaven.

A Quadrille is a new poem form consisting of 44 words.

Sultry Goodbyes

Wall Color Flowers Summer Flower

Thank you Robert Greig for some stirring of inspiration. Please check out his blog for  fascinating, quirky insights.

Autumn has beckoned us
just as summer shies into those dark corners
hitherto unkempt and upswept
but only until wild winds kiss the days to come;
blustery and full of bronze talk,
they will clear the woebegone but sultry, silvered
spider’s webs still dancing,
and wondrously, in traces of summer’s
dissipating air and vanishing affection –
and taking with her – leaves, light, warmth,
and birds.
Now the seasons will begin to drape
like three quarter sleeves
of time’s tireless scarecrow,
who smiles when he remembers
the long drawn nights of winter’s
cloak.

When Winds Weep

statue winds weep.png

‘Though lost in howling gales
that tether me to their tempest charm,
I can still nurture and carry you with me.
I left you only briefly to catch my breath,
that too is taken from me.’

Darkness clothes a fragile bosom that once held
in its clasp lovers and babes
who now suckle the misted air
around her still feet.
Cold and alone they glide as one, lost to her
until time can soften such stone.

Grief seeps the cleavage as its hunger devours a
faint grip – a moist hand touches her robe
and begs tears to heal the deep sorrow
that plagues her still.
Rivulets run away from her, but never very
far or for very long.

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