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Poetry Magnum Opus

La Porte de l'Enfer


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successiva si prega di



We shuffle forward, two paces, puddles

pooling regret on the bleached floor;

in front my son, with fiery hair, skull and flame

dotted on his milky skin.



os gwelwch yn dda nesaf



Outside the incontinence of angels,

inside such heat!

Doors open with credit card fate,

my mum with umbrella scurries in.



næst skaltu



Two priests queue close-by, and I clasp

my ex's hand and almost breathe

in cider trees brimming with scent

and summer sin.



pwochen tanpri



Pimply kids scoop sweets from 'pick n' mix':

blue uppers for her, green dragons for him.

Dad grabs a bottle of scotch:

he's wearing Doc Martens and looks bone thin.



next please



I shed my clothes and look back,

through the tunnel,

to the garden,

where all endings begin.

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Interesting queue, with those on it, profiled.

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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cider trees brimming with scent

and summer sin.


Mmmm, nice alliteration AND image. In fact, all the characters are visible.


But now, Mr. Badge, I can never post my poem called "Q". It is a tritina with the end words Kew, cue, and queue.


Maybe after the furor from yours. :)

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