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Poetry Magnum Opus

Recollections


dedalus
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Limbourg1.jpg

 

We were snoozing happily in our hammocks

when, with a surfeit of roaring soaring sound,

the invasion arrived around teatime

and from waters, rushing in a writhing ring,

a feeble hand arose from the waves

absent Excalibur.

 

The smothered fish lay along the shore,

and the mountains sank into the sea.

 

This is not good, I remember thinking,

as I raced to the palace of the Queen,

the heady heave and clash of arms behind me,

but her bloated face was a bawdy green

and a cloud of flies were buzzing around:

‘ I perceive, milady, the realm is sinking’.

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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Enjoyed, because it was your dream, not mine.

Oft wish I could convey my dreams like this but efforts never measure up to the "reality" of the crazy, stupid, nightmarishness of them. Difficult to capture something so "off the wall". And there are so many of them.

Hope you got some rest. I often don't.

from the black desert

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Vivid, almost lurid.

 

bloated face was a bawdy green

 

 

I liked it!

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David W. Parsley

Enjoyed this vivid fragment of surreality, Brendan. Nicely composed.

 

- Dave

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