Spherical

There is exotic in repeating,

pouring  in a censer.

Swinging lasso, carefree.

It floats circular, heady, hypnotic;

pollinating everything open in my wake.  

Ritual of joy.

This time, I am brave enough

to leave nothing unsaid;  the whole

makes cosmic sense. 

Orbed.  Embraceable.

I am compelled to whisper it in round. 

A chant.  Maybe a prayer,
on the brink of a spell. 

tk/August 2014

Hypnotic read by R.A.D. Stainforth ...

Join Magpie Tales creative writing group

The Morn's Night

An hour ago,

I was a child of fables,

pokeweed.

A tongue roller,

chewer of grass―

I could graft an oak from a twig.

Meanwhile, it's another o'clock;

acorns drop from grown trees.

The moon bellows baritone;

omits the chorus,

replaces it with zees.

Vitruvian sweetness finds me,

springing spreadeagle―

wheel of honeysuckle.

I forget sleep;

shake out the pillowcase,

wrap it around my head

for a babushka―

sound a klaxon,

hail a hackney carriage.

Get to Falkirk.

tk/June 2014


R.A.D. Stainforth adds a bit of magic... 

Join Magpie Tales creative writing group

*A Game of Patience, 1937 by Meredith Frampton 

Circle of Life

Mad wings beat― 

hover, peep, tumble

from fairy tale, Easter basket.

It knows it should fly.

How did it stray from the line?

I chase, bent down.

Hands stretched.

Come to mama.

Life flashes before my eyes;

friendly persuasion.

Can I keep it?

O! gosling mine― 

dark precision drops from the sky

pulling silent pink ribbons

gripped with no emotion.

tk/May 2014


 R.A.D. Stainforth's best rendering...emotion beautifully captured... 

Join Magpie Tales creative writing group.

image: Chair With the Wings of a Vulture, 1960, Salvador Dali