Jump to content
Poetry Magnum Opus


  • Content count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

Profile Information

  • Gender
  1. Homage to Romance

    an excellent piece Tinker
  2. conflict

    The hands of stars polished diamonds on our backs made by angels from blood, they trampled on our backs as the golden oriole's breast covered the moon. We placed sleeping tablets on the night's tongue and learnt the language of fire-the night spoke in it's sleep, the names of those killed, angels left wings as they parachuted from graves. The war was like a wind blowing against bloody wrists near a cross that eventually reached the wings of a bird. Ocean waters like blood washing against lighthouse nails, spirits sailed on time's waters warning never to predict or prophesize their demise. Deserts exhaled when soldiers returned home, our shadows were distilled in a forest of moons. I returned to the soil, letting it fall through my scarred fingers, clouds pass through the eyes of the dead.
  3. landscapes

    Sonny Hathaway the landscape painter had a stroke which made him blind, his wife had passed away a month earlier, he had been working on a painting of them both before his stroke. Sonny had a dream that night about his wife, she had her fingers pressed against the bedroom window, he was woken by fingertips pressing onto his eyelids, a pair of hands guided Sonny to the canvas to help him finish the painting of him and his wife Sonny could see the painting but not his wife. Sonny went back to sleep, saw his wife, they left for paradise.
  4. space station

    The earth was like a swan as it moved through space,the debris surrounding it-like disconnected thoughts.This was Jack Johnson's fiftieth night in space aboardthe space station Argonaut. Jack had recently been hallucinating, mistakenly seen a spider's web, hehad been connecting stars searching for the index ofcreation.Jack was surprised at how black space appeared during the daytime and how incongruous death was withwhat Jack was experiencing in space.There werefifty two computers on the space station and twelve kilometers of electrical wiring but very little intellectualstimulation.Jack had been a Buddhist for twenty years and was startingto have doubts about reincarnation, the space stationseemed so sterile it was was made up of a number ofpressurized modules that served as scientific laboratoriesJack saw sixteen sunrises daily, the sun was taunting him,flashing his previous incarnations before him, remindingJack that it's life would continue long after he had gone andreincarnation was not guaranteed. Light from stars waslike echoes of previous lives he was sure he had lived.Jack compared his weightlessness with the increasinglyheavy thoughts he was starting to experience, the vastnessof space amplified Jack's despair, the earth was like a wheelof prayer he could not reach, Jack seemed to exist in someform on earth and on the space station and in an anotheruniverse also, space station crew members were like ghosts.Jack had his wedding picture with him and wondered if the universewas like a camera with an unknown intelligence filming itself,Jack existed in another dimension filming himself . Jack had a dream that night about a circle of mirrors containing his reflectionwithout an external presence-this was akin to several universesexisting but not being able to communicate.
  5. David

    has anyone heard from David?
  6. shells

    Ruby the wife of Kevin Holland passed away while he was at sea on the fishing boat he had named after her. Kevin was devastated by her death, he painted the hour glass she had given him as a gift. Kevin went for an early evening walk on the beach and could see two figures emerge from the sea, they walked across to two deck chairs left a shell on each one then vanished. Kevin put the shells in turn against his ear, he could the voice of ruby and another woman, this made him drowsy -he slept in one of the chairs, one of the figures returned to whisper in Kevin's ear, a mermaid had given Ruby eternal life and when he returned to sea he heard them both chanting his name like an incantation.
  7. moutain leopard

    The mountain- an angel in different form, the snow it's wings. The leopard is like a disconnected moon, a wheel of prayer. The male leaves his scent in search of a mate, heaven on earths template camouflaged in nature left by an unknown intelligence. The cat's claws slice into snow, somewhere sawn down trees make contact with the earth as they hit the ground, empty spaces where branches used to be, spaces reserved for the waiting to be born who will help a planet climb towards a new consciousness. The moon reaches the eyes of a pregnant leopard and in the desert those of a sphinx, nature's seamless rebirth as man's arid ideology brings sections of an ecology to the mortal brink. The wind the mountain's unrealised ghost encounters a newly incarnated cub as the moon's clock exhales onto ticking flakes of snow. the moon's ghost is wrapped in furs as it tries to initiate a seance and attempts to push the mountain between world leaders who claim to control the tides, the rains wake an angel sleeping on their glass sky, who will collect the water leaking through cracks as an angel collects the final screams of animals caught in traps.
  8. candle dust

    Blind Ezra sat in his garden as the moonglight ravsihed his cat Rumi's fur. Memorys were like candle dust in a matchbox as Ezra reminisced, icy glints were like eyes that helped view visions of the past. Rumi blended with the moonlight leaving enquiring green eyes reflected at the moon.
  9. 5 hours before dawn.

    this has echoes of Fernando Pessoa-the book of disquiet
  10. Movies and Horses

    lovely piece of writing-so uplifting-barry
  11. Windshield

    excellent use of metaphor-well done
  12. The Escapist

    wonderful moving narrative
  13. physician of the soul

    A river spoke to me in a dream, I had to tell it the red moon's reflection was not a wound. Soldiers do not want hear about the mechanics of laparotomy, Quenu knew battle had changed, death hissed at his paradigm, we had mobile units, early evacuations, transport for the wounded-the winds of propaganda could not slow down echoes of standardization. The wind went blind one night, I was woken by it hands examining my stomach for a wound, my needle's eye is blind and the end is bent, Quenu refused the wings that heaven sent, he dug and his spade met and touched that of the angel digging the war out of false consciousness. I am a surgeon not a visionary but I can see the lost vision of my patients turning into ambulances. I have become an agent, a physician of the soul-I have to remain pure as the many wives of war tempt me with despair and ravage me with rage, one wife whispers "emotive psychosis", another "obnubliation". A strange inversion grips me when I listen to patients, like mountains are climbing me and seas are drowning in me. The winter has psychosis, it's winds are linear, soldiers tell me of there synesthesia-they hear snow flakes scream and blood sing.
  14. oriole

    A golden oriole opened my cagebriefly, six bars of a song, his blackwings eclipse those of war. I havedied six times as ennui rips anotherghost whose wrist aches for the presenceof the orioles yellow breast to unclenchthe unresting fists of battle-to slip on a gold ring as war marries war.i spot an owl one night on the hunt as I seeka fire-fighter to locate the elusive flames thatburn within. Tears cross the sky, fire falls fromclouds. I have one type of madness that seeksa sane reflection. How insignificant I seem againstthe bonsai sun of the oriole's yellow plumage, thiswar just another distant scream of a planet orbitingthe sun.
  15. A few Than Bauk scribbles

    enjoyed this excellent piece-well done

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Guidelines.