Posts tagged ‘sky’

06/10/2013

Thought Sky

 

She had a thought: that sky was true,

That sky was blue as eyes, as deep

As weeping in a loveless home:

Not cold, but crystalline it shone.

 

She had a thought: those lines were meant

As purpose, point and route to run,

Another means to fake escape,

Until the next direction pulled.

 

She had a thought: of someone trapped

As everybody else was trapped,

But who would see her questions asked,

By fists she formed as stations passed.

 

Her music played, the sky was sky,

She had a thought and let it die.

 

 

This poem was written as a response to the photograph by artist Cheryl Garner. It is part of an on-going collaboration.

The photographs, with poems, can be found at:

www.thecheesewolf.co.uk/category/vicarious-journeys/

the work of Cheryl Garner can be found at:

http://cherylgarner.squarespace.com/

 

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31/12/2012

Limit of Learning (They Took the Sky)

 

Those skies were never meant to end.

Off west the distant Irish coast,

And east the millstone cities smoke:

Horizons wide enough for dreams.

 

Then came the day they closed the sky:

One little push, one breeze to blow.

They left the air but took the far,

So less and less would raise their heads.

 

Together we would wish the Earth,

Instead were left with measured ground,

And shivered at the thought of worlds

Beyond the confines of our plots.

 

We reached, we yearned, we stared, we learned:

And then they took away the sky.

 

.

28/05/2012

Minotaur Running

 

He runs the moor on gritstone paths,

The heather pollen thick in eyes

Unused to sun and distant skies.

He fears his shadow on the quartz.

 

He’d built an image of the breeze,

But now, at last, he feels her touch.

He looks about but cannot see

The fingers running through his mane.

 

He tastes the blood upon his tongue.

His heart is bursting through his throat.

The moorland paths run on and on,

Across a world un-walled, unknown.

 

Below the earth he stood up proud,

But here – so small – his head is bowed.

20/05/2012

Ariadne’s Ritual

 

The moon sits by her dancing maze

And spins her thread like spider’s silk.

She speaks of heroes, dreams of death,

And shows the dancers where to tread.

 

The planets one by one step up

And take the thread and dance the maze.

They face the sky and vault him high:

His horns are sharp and stained with blood.

 

The dancers keep a pounding beat,

They feel the earth beneath them groan.

The sky demands his sacrifice:

He tastes the pulse within them flow.

 

The golden crown of Thetis glints.

The moon will weep to feel its weight.