Poetry Day 6

The Conquest

 Shouts echoing across the grass
Softly churned to mud beneath metal shod feet,
Flags flutter, caught in a cruel wind,
Whipping the onlookers into a frenzy of noise,
Congratulations and curses fly,
Colours clash, faces hit the earth,
Blood is let, bruises bloom,
Limbs twist, breath kicked skywards.
The jousting ground?
The rugby pitch.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dream big, Be grateful, Give love, Laugh lots

Today I am being and doing all the things in the title a little more than I did yesterday.    These are not ground breaking statements, in fact they are what I jotted down from a Wordle poster I was spending more time reading than I should have done during a tedious meeting the other day.  But they stuck with me, and as I usually remember very little, being cursed with a memory like that kitchen implement with very small holes in it, I feel that this imbues them with a certain 'specialness', a truthfulness if you will. Now I honestly believe that I have a very good life, I am happy and I want for nothing that is necessary to keep body and soul together.  Okay, so I don't have that pony I've wanted since I was seven and neither am I Mrs Jake Gyllanhall, but those gripes aside, I am very lucky. Of course, it is human nature to not recognise this (by choice or happenstance) most of the time.  There are so many things to divert the mind after all... from the big and uni
Read more

June poetry 1

It's the month of Midsummer and the poet within is yearning to use the voice again. Okay, it isn't quite that philosophical or romantic - I and Maria at mgoodson.blogspot.co.uk have challenged each other with a list of words to use as inspiration for ... something in a written form. My first word is spine.  I think I'm going to use each word as the title and see where that goes.  The poems will be short initially as I also have (don't we all) other work related and uni related matters to focus on but hopefully, after a week or so I will begin to explore some more formal and lengthy ways of writing. Spine Bone road beneath her fingertips She maps it carefully Following each bump, each turn Asking questions of the earth Which has released this prize  Each dip and break a clue To what has come before And where we may be travelling
Read more

Poem 8

Meatspace She said to meet here, But I think I'm in the wrong place. She definitely said here, There is a lot of blood in the air. I wish I'd got her number, A smell of death oozing into my pores. This is not exactly date friendly, Sharp blades and tufts of hair. I think it's time to leave, This is not my idea of a fun meet space. I have no idea what a meatspace is but apparently it is in the Urban dictionary so I'm now going to look it up!
Read more