andy looks a scream

Magpie tales 106 care of Tess

cream of tomato and chicken

red and white

cans up high and for infinity

campbells curlicue

a clam chowder of seaside memories

we are  crouching

tin to tin

a trolley waits

red and white

soup tins

white and red

rows and rows

stacked high

in the aisle

your soul loaded.

David Bowie used to sometimes write songs by cutting up all the text and rearranging it into something else.

I tried it..i think its rubbish but what the heck....it was an experiment!!

the link is Campbell soup-> Andy Warhol-> David Bowie

awakening

the morning light is changing gently

there is a repetition of our days

we rise

we walk

we work

we sleep

we hold ourselves close 

for the new beginnings that stir

in the damp earth

unseen to our blind eyes

but if we lay down

and breathe scent of the musty decaying leaves and bracken

soil stuck to our winter pale cheeks and lashes

we will hear the stirring

a gentle pressure of

blanched tendrils stretching to the light

a whispered promise of awakening.

adrift

sailors adrift 

on the becalmed seas

tattered sails hanging limp

become shadows on  white skins

below the cargo

are quiet

exhausted by hunger and heat

the depths of their despair

ebb and flow

with  creaking timbers

all are waiting 

for a fair wind

a cool night

the sight of land

an end to this.

Thanks to Tess at magpie tales for the prompt photo, go over and see all the others

The Last Dance.

a  grave at Novodevichy Cemetery Moscow

she had hands of an angel

as they moved with expression

they danced  

as her body

moved to the music

and accentuated a story

reaching out to the audience

impossibly long and slender

ruby tipped nails 

caught

flowers strewn at her feet.

This is todays Magpie Tale from Tess, go over and see all the others