'The Heron Ponds' is the 7th collection of poetry and short stories from Welsh poet, writer and blogger Steven Francis. Enjoy!
Friday 27 April 2012
Tuesday 24 April 2012
Kids Love Ponds
Fall to me father,
if only to call me son.
But no,
a starless sky simmers over a leather ocean
and hate nurtured in a wild chiselled youth
proves much too strong for turning back.
And down I fall alone....
@ Steven Francis poems 2012
if only to call me son.
But no,
a starless sky simmers over a leather ocean
and hate nurtured in a wild chiselled youth
proves much too strong for turning back.
And down I fall alone....
@ Steven Francis poems 2012
Tuesday 17 April 2012
This (For) Jellyfish
Like an invisible brain
floating in a murky ether,
this meshy monster
fingers the void with oily vines,
buzzing in salty crevices
that were not meant for man.
Jellyfish, more aloof than lobsters
and blind to sharks,
groping the flora of death black abysses
to unleash unparalelled stings
which show scorpions how its done.
Bitter list of many faces
while sullen arches fall.
The beggars knees
kings jewel,
Gods navel
gypsy strings
and will of Icarus,
all owe debt to the fatty grace of the headless fish...
@ Steven Francis poems 2012
Reading
floating in a murky ether,
this meshy monster
fingers the void with oily vines,
buzzing in salty crevices
that were not meant for man.
Jellyfish, more aloof than lobsters
and blind to sharks,
groping the flora of death black abysses
to unleash unparalelled stings
which show scorpions how its done.
Bitter list of many faces
while sullen arches fall.
The beggars knees
kings jewel,
Gods navel
gypsy strings
and will of Icarus,
all owe debt to the fatty grace of the headless fish...
@ Steven Francis poems 2012
Reading
Wednesday 4 April 2012
The Rats Are Loose
Dare not sleep tonight.
Care not for rest
with its morphine stabs and death wax.
Seek the Yanto men with glossy widowmakers
to engrave heretics with bullets
and pulverise each sermon to dust.
The sightless renegades are loose
to frame time in fires
as ham hock poetry from olive worded books
ladder down my gartered spine,
searching for the root of life
and its war fever...
@ Steven Francis poems 2012
Reading
Care not for rest
with its morphine stabs and death wax.
Seek the Yanto men with glossy widowmakers
to engrave heretics with bullets
and pulverise each sermon to dust.
The sightless renegades are loose
to frame time in fires
as ham hock poetry from olive worded books
ladder down my gartered spine,
searching for the root of life
and its war fever...
@ Steven Francis poems 2012
Reading
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