Iceland is named cos it’s got lots of ice India from Indian ink But Turkey’s got no turkeys strutting around Seems logic’s gone glug down the sink gobble.. gobble.. glug.. glug.. To check out more of Don Matthews’s work, go here.
I’m just a poor struggle-ing poet I know I’ve got it down below The trouble, gets caught on my intestine My metaphors get stuck and can’t show I’m told I do well writing nonsense A genre few bloggers blog on I bought training books from my op shop To build up my knowledge upon. Don… Read More “I Got Trouble. My Intestine Gets in the Way” by Don Matthews.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves: who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of… Read More “Fear, Light, and Liberation” by PatBunny.
Blue fog, derived from the morning, Dancing alone in an orchard with the breeze, In a world torn with a hunt—a slow death for us all, Then don’t let us go then. We walk alone into the arterial landscape… Read more here. You can also find more of my work here.
desire sails the salt winds in the dark sleep of eternity within the bloodshed of the sea effusion de sang dans les océans chantez votre chanson between the recluse of cherry dark blossoms, sleep shatters memories through the sea. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
isolate the modernities carnations touch the wind, mocking them, like a cigarette in the abandoned sunlight, the entropy, monstering god-like shores fragmenting ends of the mind, traversing the watery rock for the sea, the mouth left behind from the cave, teeming with blood; the mountain defines the reflection in your eyes, where have you been?… Read More Modernities.
Of the April wind the distant perdu world, persists with the evening sea shore conducts in sleep the phase of light. There is no sun. There are no wings in the abyss with black fruit, beautified in the sacrificial breath. Fall, fall. Amnesiac in the… Read More Amnesiac.
My tears are only droplets Into a sea of grief Despite my cloudy tears I see, there above The night sky is clear Despite my inner gloom I see, there above A bright crescent moon Despite my blinding wonder I see, there above She’s cradling a shining star My friend’s 38 year son had died suddenly… Read More “Tonight In the Dark” By Ivor Steven.
The likeness of snow-covered heaps on desert-searing nights Of a scathing wind that cursed a name and brought it By the crook of a deserted nest sunbathed by bare hands, Seducing a whistle to the primeval waters that shoehorn rocks Reflected with an awakening flutter within a cold room With lip of ice and loitering… Read More Mes mots dans ce rêve.
Do not look at the black night In the whitecap of the storm, And then when it comes to dreams, Do not speak of them to me For I lived in the years before. Strands in the lust of blood Into the twilit road at night The first fleet dead, slayed At Octavian’s feet, And it… Read More Black rivers.
Lay under this rock let us drown the Arcadia cold in exile of our minds. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
We desire the worst In our fleeting dreams, Furiously pounding As the wind whistles In the twilit flowers, Trapped in an invisible pathway Before us; a silence waiting for us, As we are drawn together, Waiting, to be sure beneath the cold stones That we can forget it all. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
A/N: Inspired partially by this song. After the cold sea Come home to me, A climb from the northern mountains and sea waves, This is where we prayed To come all away—to be brought the sun In faith from our footprints, arrived from broken stones, Without a word to say, made from dust to bones… Read More Cold Sea.
Here is the slumber Indulged in black tides Stood softly forever still. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
A feather lifts into the asters, Made known to the wind Teeming with a protestation Of what awaits to be quelled Eternally in this infinity, This sacrifice that slips from the dark, Settles into a river barely seen. Permeating from frosty caresses Sliding off the rock, And back into the cool, The bare of winter,… Read More Eternal.
Strangled in shades, like caved falling fingers by the creeping river Plunged too brightly in the shadows forever, like forever meets the mist In the emptiness of the humming autumn red fruited and lowly kissed On the swath of land, haunts them, hunts them in the dwelling giver Of promised rapture, the vowel of drunken… Read More Like forever meets the mist.
Winter roads As the air collapses Into grazed Reformed minds Darker than apparition Words alone. Disconnected, Wish I could’ve known What to say As silence Lowers on the dark wood boughs In humanity. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
We stopped in the primordial catacombs Waiting for the wrinkled aromas unto fresh Italy, And fog that had diverged the roots, laine with fallen roses; And I’ve heard the lonesome flow around the shore, Unrest among the madmen and women in the streets, And no more betwixt the gleaming roads, and yellow winters From before—“Let… Read More A Red Hyacinth.
Blue river fiercely Combed; bloomed, Through wind, awakening cold ash. In the frail honey surf Arching Warbling yellow trodden ages, roads; Water gushing, stranded sun Upon Me; and I, I am dizzy with Light. With the humming wind, Shadows Tremble in ghost shores; shaky with A breath. One breath—sea light You’re Shifting, lying down— unwrapped,… Read More Shadows tremble in ghost shores.
A/N: My take on the Terza Rima poetic form… or at least my attempt at one! 😛 Upon perishable rooted wandering shores The wind’s recitation, a hectic dream Through the picturesque of yellow moors: Slick, blackened, chaste, o’er oozy silver streams. The slice of bone, inheriting shimmering Stardust, torn from rocks and ribs in unseen dreams… Read More The recitation of my dreams.