August – Loss

featured in the poetry forum February 17, 2024  :: 0 comments

You sing beautifully strong. Where did warmth
take calm seas? I sit with rough, wade into depths
hidden behind blue waters. And calm comes gentle,
silent roars cast themselves to feed shoals in waiting.
I’ve faced death all around. It sits on breeze beneath cloud,
in every motion of breath while
sands stick to bare skin refusing to part back
to origins, it claims its deposit.
I can’t feel it’s rough upon my cheek but see its
quiet arrival shrouding all but eyes yet
I am salted, before the aquatic roll, nonetheless. Seaweed-less.
Waves come at me
one, two, three and I take submerge. Silence, briefly between
crests mutes mountains even the grass stands without weave
You did it your way bro. Ended. That gape vaster
than black holes infinity
And the world hung it’s head, rocked and swayed.
Others decayed till deaths breath inhaled their living
Stole it for another charge. I have faced death all around.
One, two, three, four
I watched a wall of DNA hold tight yet wobble
within its shell, tears spilled into womb-less
for tomorrows rejoice at all those seeds germinations
that he too walks between veils.
I took you in my head, walked each step to
Dirt’s edges and rituals rocked. Mockingbirds sang high.
Into the ground he lowered, I am face to face,
And sunflowers, great big waving sunflowers,
cracked my wall
and so I flood,
on breeze beneath cloud,
in every motion of breath while
sands stick to bare skin refusing to part back
to origins.

editors note:

Sunflowers sad when face to face comes, and it will come. – mh clay

Gift

featured in the poetry forum December 25, 2022  :: 1 comment

Darkness descends upon these hills like tides turning on themselves
moving hypnotical fooling ticking clocks hours are long,
one by one tiny homes glow illuminating coastal edges
blink and here it is – dark, non-fading into, simply dark
not like night skies of summer breeze
but one more than just new moon shedding no lunar beams
to swim beneath winter’s swell, turning up its blackness
so she can wink herself here before milky way’s rash streaks
across doming these bending roads giving all of herself –
guiding December’s cocoon in twilight dream.
Waves of haves and nots bearing themselves so full of grace,
those lost in flesh yet found in inner places when fires crackle under candlelight
and her shine – north star, gifting, gifting. Sticky fingers purr, shedding cinnamon,
last year’s dust, tears of every memory held in rosemary wafts,
nutcracker stares a knowing beneath that tree glittering, the world’s best kept secret
lands with reindeer giving, giving, giving. And I hang my star.
Hang her high above these walls believe in all its joys each golden pleat ready to give its light and hold those giggles of Christmas mornings and eves past to greet their every changing growing light, 19, 15, 16, 12 years on their giggles giving, giving, giving. Hope that war will smother out beneath its darkness and sink, sink with power of giving, giving, giving as tides turn under full moon.

editors note:

Giving, giving, giving. Yes! – mh clay

Round

featured in the poetry forum October 1, 2022  :: 0 comments

River runs riot round bends, twists turn naturally
moving through centuries paths laid down taking
debris and shite, its own course, its own voice
life within death of sorrowful sonnets laid at
feet of null and void. No matter how many times
you push, plunge control flow carve out preconceived gullies choose a course
you think it should do, river will always flow its own,
return to its choice, flow from its source to mouths in waiting
No matter how many times
you push, plunge control flow carve out preconceived of fairy tale ideas because
someone somewhere decides they can because they say we can’t because they believe
someone somewhere said in a book once upon her body is ours to say bend over, spread easy
be taken, be broken be ripped, shredded seduced, reproduce, reproduce pushed plunged
carry the weight of his load, as with rivers will always choose our own,
return to our choice flow from our source to mouths in waiting, roar rapidly carving our own
we will roar my sisters and I,
dare you come to our door and tell me I can’t, and I’ll show you choice
we are river, sun, fire, moon, breath you inhale, eternal mother nature, you will not take what’s not yours to give she chose to birth you and now you wage war. War on the womb of the mighty. We will rise. Rise, my sisters and I brightly, rainbowed full bodied. Our choice, her choice, my choice. We will roar as rivers run riots round bends take all the debris and shite.

editors note:

Guys, come ’round, else they’ll just go ’round. – mh clay

Smell Apples

featured in the poetry forum May 7, 2022  :: 0 comments

I.

Flooded with moments filling up as sea and rock pools kiss
Apple blossoms dazzle. Lone gnarly one hangs,
bad ass to core – our miracle
and hippy dippy cat.
Innocent eyes looking up between the ears. Hands holding sun.
Mother. I’ve birthed beyond myself
smell fruits before the buds. Decades rooted. Found their way from mind to page
immortally planted with

Muzzle’s smile beaming down oozing appley foam drenching clouding velvet lips with sunsets chomping more than just pulp and pips, low whinny’s hum. Hands sticky with joyous mess tongues tenderly devour. Hooves still with summer.

II.

From behind settee bitten by grip of hide, no seek apple to mouth froze, spittle sickly sweet drips hot plops, not knowing beyond the count of five, the bite still waiting, heart pounds louder than drum, the only time eyes paused wide like fox the moment hound bays above shifting earth raining it on to snout beneath the chase aching scurry, back to wall darkness ensues. Stay low stay. His footsteps always echoed. I heard the future hooves gallop the hills. And sea. Sea’s lullaby.

III.

Have you ever turned apples in hands, right before moments teeth pierce skin and juice explodes itself to lips longing to drink, see reflections of sun? Flooded with moments filling up as sea and rock pool kiss? Quarter breeze breaking pastry enveloping stewed brambly just enough to ooze itself dry crunching soft sour sugary sand echoing in molars, gulping in self, here, now?

editors note:

Apple-ish erotica. Delicious! Oh, my! – mh clay

Spoon

featured in the poetry forum December 11, 2021  :: 0 comments

We’ve been here before you and I, spooning voyages
past
present, beyond it all.
Horizon,
sun,
moon.
Coo-coocoo of mourning dove pirouettes with ears
stretches as limbs ironing out creaks,
here, this place. Spooning, ladling.
Across inky shadow growing long as dawn bids adieu
the hare stills, bathing in heated streams from sun’s yawn
dreams falling off with nights-hair swirling
with breeze to nestle on dewy grasses
there, just there- teeming life, spooning sustenance
and here this place
you call
sow into this inner lining linking breaths
as seas to sands, rams to rugged.

editors note:

Such a savory soup! Open wide! – mh clay

Meditations Of Commuters Saunter – Last autumnal school walk.

featured in the poetry forum December 16, 2020  :: 0 comments

Blackberry blossoms dusting silence
gently grace street-song
awaken wind whispers,
Its harmonious decent heard by strays.

Senses a tuned beyond maddening
lend an ear to delicate decorating
Imagining jam.

Here under polluted murky orange glow and hopes,
lone fresh Conker sits, gleams dreams
of sapling roots, earthen embrace.

Raven caw acknowledgment in shadows
to loping leaps of retriever bounding up
autumnal fodder, morning rituals meditate.

His golden dance in dark snapping leaf -glides
once again, whirls in between his wags,
almost the second coming if there was a first.

Padding a run-walk-pull, his own excitement exchanged,
sloth like human performs façade of ‘I’m- in- control’
look firmly knitted to greying brow.

This 6ft frame dragged as if bandit in western
again, tripping his inner nakedness over
doe-eyed pawing Conker to gutter smiles

wagging licks to air, I inhale nature’s sinew
hold gaze, my own bark back
in memory sandwiches, intact with crusts.

The coral amongst hissing bin trucks wafting casts out
the rotted canvas freedoms and
Kawasaki Z400 Zigzags its distinctive rumbling,

percussions hearts longing throttle to get there
the 4mth old giggle gurgles eyeing floating
pink tumbling her window, her world, stars twinkle
it’s 6:30am. His hand in mine. Curls, just like
first moments of newborn grasp. We wave to moon.

editors note:

Crystal confusion in a morning constitutional. – mh clay

Love

featured in the poetry forum May 15, 2020  :: 1 comment

First flutters, deliriously delicious. Wet.
Delusions deviously dealt, betrayal, death.
Unknown explorations, standing bare, complete self. Spring.
The deepest breath, mountains envelope, zen.
The quickening, first suckle, hand-grasp-curl, pout-lip-quiver. Milestones.
The moment vinyl turns, transporting time, rhythmic rotations. Jazz.
Muzzle, cheek, face buried deep, inhalations sweet dung hay infusions,
Toe to hoof. Momentous beats, as one, essences. Summer.
That look, doey-eyes chocolate, all seeing, head-cock, paws
mulching mud frolicking forests, rivers rush. Autumn.
Full throttle, leathers to leathers, pillion countering corners, wind-whipped
senses engulfed, sea -licks. Freedom.
One foot follows the other, imprints, waves -lapping, cast out. Swaddle Sun.
The entire journey, tasting cow, dancing flames, smelling book, supping eve. Winter.
Unknown explorations, standing bare, complete self
The deepest breath, mountains envelope. Love.

editors note:

Life loved and love lived. Yes, love! (Yes, Love!) – mh clay

Fear

featured in the poetry forum November 8, 2019  :: 1 comment

Fragility screams, choking breath.
Etches itself, sharping as it moves
Ambiguously, freezing fight- flight
Raring itself painted gold, blue or

amber, anything to grapple on,
leaving its listeners popple bewilderment.
F
E
A
R

as the bullet kisses,
The moment enough strips bare,
as piss streams booted out by bladders,
that silence thumb- turns pages in foxholes
*Ledwidge, his pencil – did you?
Were your eyes sliced into slivers, laid out?
turned up begging to run on their stalks?
Did ears bleed to drown out – colour the sounds?

F
E
A
R

The pause before hands smashed you into wall
the moment girl is selected as woman to please
to death do they part,
The boy who loves him first steps to say I am…
the blinded footfalls passing invisible asking- can you spare?
That spotting at 10weeks, silencing quickening- gestation muted
forever in dream whispers of imagine ifs,
the cow before slaughter last lowering,
to stand face mirror, whisper I am, this is, I love you.
Waking up to face shadow huddles pointing sneers, snarling
black dog unleashed,
The moment you say goodbye,
stepping into yourself, removing fungal layers of each
Fragility scream, choking breath
Etches
Ambiguously
Raring itself

*Ledwidge, Francis; 1891- 1917, Irish poet from Slane, Co Meath, Ireland; Killed in WW1 by a stray shell, July 31st, 1917

editors note:

Caught quivering in the spell of the spelling. – mh clay

These days

featured in the poetry forum December 4, 2018  :: 0 comments

Walk to beckon sun
proclaim all roar roaming
interlocking tongue till salivating purple
as king of king’s stuff apple
bore-less head turns on spit
knead the dirt, regurgitate butterfly,
I,
hold up bones skinned and howl
leave your eyes
e
a
v
e
your eyes.

editors note: Eat to see, see to eat; the eyes have it. – mh clay

Apple

featured in the poetry forum June 6, 2018  :: 0 comments

To the core of nothing and everything
Divinity of ingest cidering bees, non-angelic in waggle,
Unlike moon-shine bootlegged, no peels fermented
after the pulp revealed in revealing itself.
Eve didn’t bite, he swallowed choking swollen pride
Denying themselves true calling
Needs of blossoming to bear fruit,

to stuff skin crackled
to toffee fest, dripping on lips before hardening,
to bake to perfection in heated silence in
bitter-sweet nocturnal juice, and gorged.

editors note:

No sweeter slice than that which cuts to the core of it. Not brazen trespass, but tasty repast. – mh clay