The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
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extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
Monday, 3 June 2013
From mindlovemisery the theme: Personification
Spring came early that year,
didn't stop for pleasantries,
but wiped her wintry feet
on our new "WELCOME" mat
then sallied back into the fray.
Almost a prisoner of war
when next we met.
Winter now her jailer.
His grip more tightly round her.
No thoughts of her release.
My car a Super Beetle --
second hand but crafted by
Vorsprung durch Technik people --
inspite of which:
it went jerkily to school one day.
Lunch time and with the cowling up
I'm poking at the engine bits
and stroking them
and crooning in my smoothest voice.
Unseen behind me
one interested pupil, very small.
What y'doing then, sir?
"I'm talking to her very nicely,
hoping she will go for me."
What, she knows English then, sir?
or you knows German?
"A bit of each Paul. She hears
the friendly sounds in voices
and likes to please them, see?
At least, that's what I'm hoping...
all done by love and kindness!"
My mum says things like that about our cat!
"Very wise, your mum. Listen to her, huh?"
Ask any of the locals,
They will tell you how
she always has those evil glints
in her dark eyes
when she's about to flood.
Below the cataract,
behind the foaming white,
just where the water lies
the blackest it can be
you'll see the double glint
where moon and sun
have both spat in her eye --
Sure sign she'll soon come raging down the valley
full of spite.