Shimmer

image it must be time for lunch now by frances woodman

time stands still
under floorboards
of forgotten moments
between shards of splintered glass and grit
tarnished and rusted with mildew
unretrieved  pieces of life
once so important slip and slide into creases
leached  away through pores and lashes
to be twisted and turned
over and over
but all emotions
hidden deep below
are but a fragile shimmer
soon covered in dust.


KD 30/9/12

This is my piece for Tess and The Mag...drop over to see the others words on this haunting photograph.

Saturday Afternoon

when we were children

the days melded 

into one stream of out and about

as we explored 

the back of beyond 

pilots and warriors raced

through red brick alleys

pirates and wayfaring strangers

oblivious to cries from mothers indoors

cold dinners and forgotten aunts

our hands green 

from stripping sage leaves 

and rose petals

to mask the smell of stolen cigarettes

choked at behind high fences

we made pictures from clouds

and our dreams became wilder as the dusk settled

secrets whispered 

through cupped hands over ears

lights switched on and radios blaring

as we raced home for tea.

KD  23/9/12 

The image is Flying Down By David Salle 2006

Given to us by Tess at The Mag

do go and see the other writers work..it is amazing!!

dance of life

Venus and The Sailor, 1925, by Salvador Dali

bring back the old days where we danced across the sands and threw off our shoes and felt the heat burn our souls

dusted and gritty sweat filled hours of toss and turn while above us the gulls swooped and screeched

cover me in coarse navy wool as night creeps up and the sun once burning our pasty skin flares up a flash of crimson

in its setting we talk of future journeys and as the first stars appear you tell me of hopes and dreams and i shiver with the possibility of it all

as we stand today looking at the horizon of our life we gently sway with the memories
hot sand between our toes.

KD for The Mag 16th September 2012

Blue

summer night 1913 albert bolch


the summer moon hangs low
in star bright skies
they watch
you walk away
your thoughts tumbling
lost in quivering anger
clothed in folds of azure blue
crazed like ice
slowly dripping jealousy
in cold frosty rivulets
of hurt and sweat
their lies twisted
turning silken memories into
rough coarse twine
to be unpicked later
in the darkness of despair.

kay 2/9/2012

This weeks Magpie Tales over here....really september?  where does it go.....