Read, Wild and Blew

Big Ben and birds on newspaper. London.

 

The wicked paper window,

flaps down a tarmac stream,

wraps colourfully a lamppost

displays, vibrant and obscene

tantalising, tales flicker fleeting,

a thousand blinking stories

winking white at passers-by,

hinting at once-golden glories,

with a murderous, glinting eye,

cantankerous and caterwauling,

pulling Gods down from the sky

hawking squawking pulpy lies,

 

and though it lies now broken

the living window never dies.

 

 

Picture by Roberta Justin, available to buy at: http://www.pinterest.com/pin/55802482856281813/

 

 

 

 

Reservoir (Minus the Dogs)

The lake shimmers, side to side

it glimmers, the topaz sky

held in its eye as a duck

swims across the still sheet,

breaking glass in its wake.

A goose approaches

up the concrete landing ramp

orange webbed feet stamp,

the waddling of its tail white

cotton reflects in my t-shirt.

Orange beak hisses welcome,

hisses for bits of bread

which are carefully thrown.

Blue eyes deep as the water

catch the sun in a cloud break,

tongue clicking in the breeze

like a loose flagpole. Children shout,

chasing green head brown ducks

that spread purple-striped wings

to escape excited chatter –

they conquer all matter

as they soar in the air,

as they swim through a swell,

as they waddle towards us

dinosaurs have inherited the Earth.

Galacticosm

Galacticosm

By David R J Sealey

 

Falling

an endless chasm yawns below me,

forming

a bright yellow platform draws me in,

incorporating

into a geared mechanism, a chain

climbing

to an emerald island suspended in the sky.

 

Onwards

hop down onto floating stone blocks

defying

the pull, drags me on to a gold coin

shining

glimmers and vanishes in my wake,

tumbling

into a star shaped halo, and away.

 

Landing

both feet first through fungal skull,

standing

in a corpse that disappears and crudely

dancing,

crushing sentient beings underfoot and

laughing

before jumping up and away, off the wall.

 

Leaping

out of a ragged hole above the clouds,

chancing

that they may hold my weight then

running

above the horizon; a ship appears,

pirates

of the blue skies making haste my way.

 

Firing

cannonballs tear towards me with a grin

finally

I find a flower that fans flames at my whim

timing

my jump and catching, I slide down the mast

unleashing

terrible balls that burn through decking boards.

 

Screaming

the great ship tumbles towards the ground

seeming

to freeze as I catch sight of a rooftop and leap

scheming

I slide down a green drainpipe, dropping through the

ceiling

into the boudoir of a scholarly mushroom.

 

Image