Skinny's thread

The wind picked up, scattered the night with orange sparkle
and she kept moving, swaying, dreaming.

I play the fiddle that keeps her entranced,
snake charmer, charmed by my captive.

She grinds passion to dust,
the lines of her closed eyes, ancient black
are more than creases on the moon.
Her waist is the mountain's very core.

Each tree presses inwards, the earth floats skywards
as night's blanket holds us tight and intimate.
The flames draw out the legends, ghosts and lore,
but they are stillborn in this dance, strewn about the floor
trampled by her chaos feet. I must not stop, though
my fingers bleed, slip, on this gorgeous wood, and the wind
pours down my open neck. I cannot.

My hypnosis is complete. I am leaf litter,
I am the bark torn off by rabbits,
I am the feast of passing deer.

 

In my mind's eye you were more beautiful.
You had more angles, more gloss.
You were a glider, austere, silent,
a marble Diana discovered in old earth.
My taste buds filed away fizz - they were mistaken.

The luxury of your gaze had made me sack-cloth,
and your damp silk removed the itch.

I just needed that smell, I think,
to brandish all week in the office,
to make the drive home each night more fun.

And here you are. Softer than I recall,
and beaky. The architect took chaos as his theme,
gave you colour, noise and nerve.

You are as disappointing as flying kites on Blackheath.

 

You are silent in my mirror, when I look hard,
but you steam it in my absence.
You leave sods on the bookcase, behind my back,
and I notice the switched off static hum.
Ripples in my coffee tell me you've been fishing,
but I missed you.

Crushed cushions are your slumber,
I creep, close doors tenderly.
There's milk in the fridge, in case you wake,
You're welcome to join me later,
in my nightgown, in my dreams.

 

this is lovely

in my nightgown
in my dreams

how sudden things remind us....

love n peace from saff
not been here awhile just on a read this one last page'
how sweet words still write...thank you for this piece little skinnny

 

Thanks Saff - good to see you back. I missed your elegant insights. Hopefully you'll stay around awhile?

 

The pigeon was under the hedge, and we put it on a slab.
At home they laughed at us, said it was all over.
We ignored the plastic eyes and bare skin patches.

In the morning it was dead. Neck broken.

I laid an egg at lunchtime, in remembrance.
A second's silence, while I placed it down my dress,
yearning to nurture........then felt it shatter,
crushed, rejected

 

Where did you get the lizard skin,
the fearful yellow in your eyes?
The apparitions that swim round your lightbulb,
sharks, tearing at your beauty and your faith?

Too many years forced into that dainty package,
fragile casing ripped by motherhood,
the knock backs, the indignity of youth.

Perhaps that's why wild dogs eat the afterbirth,
to retain the soul and feral instinct. Yours was binned,
incinerated, and now you're lost.

You are pink and sunburst, you are bubbles,
you are the screams that bring about revolution.
You are raw, yet cower as you reinvent the world,
so it becomes a halo of fear around your head.

Those yellow wellies are the key to the elements,
to truth. Those childhood eyes are yours to embrace.
There's logic in learning, step by step,
as though the world were just born,
and innocent. If you want, you can be the sky.

 

So beautiful... I'm still lingering on your recent work this morning. Pardon my silence.

 

Rachmaninov, brisk starlight and cruching black gravel... great combination.
You take me with you on this musical journey.

 

My goodness, this is ripe and rich with dominant immediacy. I feel so lost discovering power spots hidden in the familiar.

 

Excellent. Each question a poem, in and of, itself.

 

Very full yet balanced. I wish there had been milk here. I ended up going out this morning to located this means of rippling my coffee with cloudy dreams.

 

my oh my, but this is so good! fantastic wordplay and thick images throughout the whole piece twist and turn... wow, just.... wow

*sigh* incredible...

 

where do you come up with this? very, very good.... inspiring really, makes me want to meet this enigmatic girl, whomever she may be

 

such tender words here, truley wrenching in it's simplicity and intent... mesmerized, I am...

 

Wow I go away for 5 mins, after being on the internet the WHOLE weekend, and suddenly I'm bombarded with responses! Thank you both very much for your comments and I'm glad you found these latest intriguing. If you have further thoughts on "Slap & Tickle" I'd like to hear them....it's a piece that is growing on me the more time passes after its conception!

 

one thing I was thinking would be if you really broke the lines up, it might help the images "stew" a little more... but, it'd be really long and alot of people can't stick with longer verse, I don't know why, especially when it's really good; but really breakin it down did cross my mind. I dunno, it's a really really good one; maybe try choppin it up and keep that version to yourself for a while, see what you think after you sit on it a bit?

 

I'll give it a go - it's very much a first draft anyway, and as I say, because it is beginning to grow on me, I am likely to want to improve on it...will do as you suggest! Thank you. Any particular of the images you think the reader needs chance to mull over - it's interesting that you quoted the bit you did -you're the second person to quote that bit back at me, and it's by far my least favourite....interessant....

 

Were you looking for an interpretation of spacing or meaning?

 

Actually....I'm not sure! The spacing does need reworking, and it was just a case of, was there anything in there that you liked that you felt needed more emphasis...I like what you've done with the spacing - I was playing around myself, trying to keep some quirk, but the obvious way is the more effective...maybe...I'll thinbk on it...Thank you