Come end
come distant seas
where throes of man
live as idle fruit for kings
and mirrors send their spirits
keen as devil tongues
to viper morturies.
Amen
and say again amen!
Bring garden patches
to deserts of the deep,
the fractured paradise
a nylon pulse of man...
© Steven Francis poems 2012
'The Heron Ponds' is the 7th collection of poetry and short stories from Welsh poet, writer and blogger Steven Francis. Enjoy!
Friday, 16 November 2012
Monday, 12 November 2012
Lure Of Ladders
You take it from ages
and then pass away like stalling ice,
(sorry die,
where are our less than perfect manners?)
Ailing ranks, burnt smiles
weave grated dagger lines
as senseless time
lends a hand to forge saints in crafted ink.
And down beneath the lure of ladders
a ghost looking ghost
grows bolder than a clock face,
swapping wrists for hours.
Those sympathetic trails lead to lights
and morse code, happy ending routes
where gritted soldiers march to divide
electricty and horizons.
Oh by jaws of grace!
Those sons of thunder
will bait maggot cloth to dress a death
in bony sunset.
Stamp of destination, shy of eternity,
the barrel face of numbers
seeking madmen in stone of Man.
© Steven Francis poems 2012
and then pass away like stalling ice,
(sorry die,
where are our less than perfect manners?)
Ailing ranks, burnt smiles
weave grated dagger lines
as senseless time
lends a hand to forge saints in crafted ink.
And down beneath the lure of ladders
a ghost looking ghost
grows bolder than a clock face,
swapping wrists for hours.
Those sympathetic trails lead to lights
and morse code, happy ending routes
where gritted soldiers march to divide
electricty and horizons.
Oh by jaws of grace!
Those sons of thunder
will bait maggot cloth to dress a death
in bony sunset.
Stamp of destination, shy of eternity,
the barrel face of numbers
seeking madmen in stone of Man.
© Steven Francis poems 2012
Tuesday, 30 October 2012
Saturday, 27 October 2012
Saturday, 20 October 2012
Dinosaur Nebraska
Thought id catch this green alley
to drink and suffocate
while gangs of Hebrew jaws
hang out under a ketchup firmament.
Let the cats out
to brew a few,
as I lose it all
from marrow to pigment.
Flesh crimes are firm favourite,
today, tomorrow, today again.
Harvest the bulb fish and bruise queens
before gallows lose a braided grip.
Gather teens in digital pods
to skin frosted, leukemia tans alive
and wear their fashion down to worms.
Cocaine and ham,
sour bag favourites of amphibian tribes
in sulphur caves where serrated edges
cradle hangovers at dawn.
And after each light fades
those candy garters slip during staircase romances;
arched spine
tails like commas,
rise momma to braille finger lust.
Watch show freaks grind
as merry weather stirs with fan-tailed erections...
©Steven Francis poems 2012
to drink and suffocate
while gangs of Hebrew jaws
hang out under a ketchup firmament.
Let the cats out
to brew a few,
as I lose it all
from marrow to pigment.
Flesh crimes are firm favourite,
today, tomorrow, today again.
Harvest the bulb fish and bruise queens
before gallows lose a braided grip.
Gather teens in digital pods
to skin frosted, leukemia tans alive
and wear their fashion down to worms.
Cocaine and ham,
sour bag favourites of amphibian tribes
in sulphur caves where serrated edges
cradle hangovers at dawn.
And after each light fades
those candy garters slip during staircase romances;
arched spine
tails like commas,
rise momma to braille finger lust.
Watch show freaks grind
as merry weather stirs with fan-tailed erections...
©Steven Francis poems 2012
Thursday, 4 October 2012
Don't Sleep
Don't sleep cariad fach,
the goodly sons and daughters
are racing to your whispers
even when darkness grips
the cold shard of night.
Yn disgwyl arno ti.
Do not sleep dear Wales,
fall not to despair and anger
and lift the light of Hope
to find our babe,
lead her home to Mami.
Peidiwch cysgy blodyn
mae pawb yn dod...
FOR APRIL JONES
© Steven Francis poems 2012
the goodly sons and daughters
are racing to your whispers
even when darkness grips
the cold shard of night.
Yn disgwyl arno ti.
Do not sleep dear Wales,
fall not to despair and anger
and lift the light of Hope
to find our babe,
lead her home to Mami.
Peidiwch cysgy blodyn
mae pawb yn dod...
FOR APRIL JONES
© Steven Francis poems 2012
Monday, 1 October 2012
Teh Web
Ya evil f**king log of quizes
(I am not sane not at all)
you always stall in eulogies and RIPs.
Stone hearted faceless screen
interupting daydreams,
you get in the way of skies and seas,
you buffer of human skin of time,
a souless web of wires
waiting for grey haired minds to pass away.
Rest in peace
RIP...
© Steven Francis poems 2012
(I am not sane not at all)
you always stall in eulogies and RIPs.
Stone hearted faceless screen
interupting daydreams,
you get in the way of skies and seas,
you buffer of human skin of time,
a souless web of wires
waiting for grey haired minds to pass away.
Rest in peace
RIP...
© Steven Francis poems 2012
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