At the Farm Window

The horizon sulks with a gallows on its back
hanging dead wood and sinking stars
as curried clouds clamour for the night.
In my left eye, daffodils and newborn rabbits
cower from deadly weeds and satanic looking wolves
frozen in my glassy right.
Nature, as far away as television had intended,
halts granite ravens with mossy riffs
for butter lilies to rise from dew,
the morning glass.

A sightless explosion,
mother seeds in union
shattering the window with a mortal blast,
kneel deep in those wild, clove prayers...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Scarred by Bambi

Scarred by Bambi
as a child,
tricked into believing
that soft is the wild.
Oh idle wishes
of a Disney mind,
those yoghurt souls
fooled and blind.

Shun burger pools
with thy lily hearts,
think flower toothed lions
and candy stars.
Hop and skip
to the panthers lair,
care not for lost limbs
which take you there.

Amen Amen
wild is the God,
who put His creatures
on mortal sod.
And two by two
those animals follow
'Fluffy' and 'Tufty'
your blood will swallow...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Familiar Uknown (Force of Nature)

The pull of home brings footsteps back
to pad corridors that cannot tell email from teeth.
And as familiar as the public are
with voices and the tilt of necks,
bricks see nothing
while flowers spew their froth,
no lights in warren solitude.
That knuckled spook in gartered, cotton gown
may as well send its ghost to roam
amongst the propped up eyeless vinyl
on Ikea avenue.
Lost man out of style
in a Geronimo moment of masks and streets,
inbetween the grey and cold.

Tap
tap tip tap,
naked bones on keen heels.
One gone again to internet jars,
tap and then another,
famous names used like towels,
off to delirium beds at last...

@Steven Francis poems 2012