Wednesday, 10 February 2016

Seven Needles


photo credit Caroline Knopf


daily i toiled
seven needles threaded ready
gold silken twine wound
around  blistered fingers
a line worn through the nail
sucking  the blood dry
I weaved a tale
onto blue serge
it told of faraway lands
sea monsters and mermaids
flying fish dancing to the stars
of Neptune surrounded by pink shimmering shells
as octopi curl, in awe at his feet...
Your coat is ready, resplendent,
pressed with the hot iron
straight from the coals,
in a secret place
my name in curlicue
black on blue
a signature,
the embroiderers work complete.

KD 10/2/16
For the others work go here

Monday, 1 February 2016

Bridge



between the towers
there is a bridge
unseen by the masses
gossamer thin and fragile
it leads to you
I falter at the first step
I need your hand
will you give it?

KD 1/2/16

the other writers work is here 

Sunday, 24 January 2016

Secret vortex


photo Francesca Woodman

at speed the air hissed
forcing my eyes back
a zombie girl
white eyed and fluttering lashes
a monster
wrapped in a false costume
of purity
and lace
will you catch my arm?
bring me to a stop?
chasing the vortex has changed me
your fingertips lay violet bruises
and my knees
roughly scrapped
tell our secret story.

KD 24/1/16

Our writers work for Magpie tales number 303 is here


Sunday, 17 January 2016

Magpie Tales...No.302



look down
between her being and her soul.
fathom depths
deep
and reflective.
her heart has been
outgrown, split. splintered.
trace the hollow of a thought,
faded stripes
ripple the air
time cracks. dried. shadowed.
Lime plaster, a pale chalk pink
dusts her feet. Still.

KD 17/1/16

I wrote this  poem  in a homage to the way Bowie wrote at times...I cut it up and rearranged the lines ( he sometimes wrote his lyrics like this)...don't ask me what it means usually I have no clue!
The others are here.


Tuesday, 12 January 2016

Bury Me in Petals

photo by Ed Ross



a dozen pink
faded blooms
sensually unfurled
frame my passion

sherbet scented perfume
hovers overground
where i lay
my lips part to its touch

tendrils of vine and sweet pea
curl erratically to the sun
as i sink lower
collapsing briars hold with thorns

your shadow 
blinds my eyes
adorn me
place petals around still feet

wed me with a bindweed flower
pearl white 
and 
caught with dew

 a powder blue of larkspur
and scattered lavender
surround my limbs
now slack with want

wait awhile
as stray ants find me
tickling skin before you
set my breath to shiver

plait my hair 
with a candy twist of dicentra
little beating hearts twitch
as a  passing butterfly catches a memory.

kd 12/1/16







Sunday, 20 December 2015

Meeting



You smelt of cheap red wine
as my tongue flicked over your lips.
Gauloises tainted your finger tips
as you tipped my chin.
Shadows of past lovers disappeared,
scuttling through crevasses
into an iron grey nothingness.

I tiptoe in silver shoes,
a trail of wanton organza sweeps behind me
wayward and sultry in conflict.
Lashes close on emerald eyes
against strangers with wrong impressions.
The dilated iris are only for you.
I flash you a look and you agree in principle.

KD 20/12/15

For the other poets work go here!!

Sunday, 29 November 2015

Autumn Veneer

Stone stands firm
impervious,
the steam rising
from cauldrons of bubbling fat
of pig and duck
lays thin veneers
on marbled rooms.
Autumn cabbage invades nostrils
then quietly drips from architrave and pilaster,
While clove and juniper berries escape their pounding
by the pestle,
scattering from the clumsy cook
onto floors,
ground into crevices by leather soles
later deposited in Turkish silk.
A stray hair and drip of sweat
add impudence to the dish.

29/11/15




Joachim Buecklaer, 1560

The other poets work is here