Some Few Short Poems recorded for forth-coming recording. Like it? Like it. Share if you like it.
Ambling down the rambling bambling path
Forebrows caked in heady sweaty muck
Flies bashed to soil on arms of lead
We reached the border.
Crossing herself, she led us
through the seering spearing jungle mist
Across the vulgar splays of fallen tree-fingers.
Only when the sun stopped did she let us rest
Disappearing into the mist like a filligre ghost.
And that’s when we lost her.
Now we were safe. Now protected.
Now she could leave and become again
The white woman of the forest.
The dolphin. The dancer. The angel. The dream.