From my poetry blog.
To the rear of the house, through the wild and wintry blades, setting the nerves on edge: the small talk of trees.
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Word Jam #6
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Category Archives: Poetry
When In Rome
From my Poetry blog.
When In Rome I was talking to a Swiss girl, she told of a former classmate who plucked out all of her eyelashes, inflicting a vulnerability on her soul. I bartered with the tale of a girl who shaved off all of her eyebrows. I’d received the news when drinking beer by the Colosseum, that place where gladiators had impaled by trident and sword point. She had scalped herself with a Bic. (She met me at the airport, masked by a silk bandanna. I knew what she concealed. She knew that I knew.) Sometimes she would descend the stairs wrapped in a yellow sari dress: “Look at me, I’m a Punjabi girl!” Dancing around the room like some insubstantial sylph ©AndrewJamesMurray
In Spanish Hills
From my poetry blog.
In Spanish Hills In this fiery furnace is forged a languid blade, yet in these hills is a vibrant pulse. And formed within this small enclave is a definite sense of them, and us. The eye drowns in colour and shimmering haze, yet we carry around a windswept moor. On an azure calm our vision sails, but what comes to mind is a battered shore. ©AndrewJamesMurray
Word Jam #5
From my poetry blog.
The tutelage of December the mantling of trees children all rapt in obedient, window assembly their imagination outrunning their eyes with premonitions of the coming hours ©Andrewjamesmurray
Word Jam #4
and that is why we laugh she said, this sorority of sorts and I wilted beneath that scornful gaze colouring my stained glass face and a bell rang out for the passing parade and flowers flung before its path were trampled in the dirt ©AndrewJamesMurray
Ghosts
From my poetry blog.
Ghosts Rueful I walk with the ghosts of my past, listening to the whispers and mocking laughs. Events long gone, the memories last like a rose in full bloom when the summer has passed. ©AndrewJamesMurray
Word Jam #3
3.00am thoughts run like water
radio tales white heat desert Americana the water recalls every rock it has washed over even now with the rivers run dry somewhere it dreams in dark chambered veins away from the sun and the music keeping me awake at 3.00am ©AndrewJamesMurray
