'This is the last time, Jimmy. It's getting a bit iffy, you know what they're like?' He threw it onto the table. Wrapped, discreet in its work-a-day...
A soft-centred morning. The spongy surface of day, where ideas graze on crusts of past imaginings. New life flirts amongst old dreams, stirring cold...
Moonlight drops quilted darkness over all the tops. A smothering hush, lush from Nature's palette knife stops the chatter. Its syrup drops to soothe...
2 of my comments have received 2 Great Feedback votes
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Hi Ewan,
Posted on Tue, 16 Jun 2020
Hi Ewan,
There is a willful irony in this piece, no? A Plainsong chant that makes me smile in shared recognition. I'm drawn to ré-reading, which is a sure sign it works for me...
I think the first stanza says it all. Sharing the surreal with a dispassionate reader is very difficult as you are asking the reader to invest. Technically it works for me, though perhaps telling the dream in the present tense would make it...
Hi Ewan,
Posted on Tue, 16 Jun 2020
Hi Ewan,
There is a willful irony in this piece, no? A Plainsong chant that makes me smile in shared recognition. I'm drawn to ré-reading, which is a sure sign it works for me...
Cheers,
Jim
Read full commentPosted in Timor Mortis Me Conturbat
I think the first stanza says
Posted on Fri, 28 Nov 2014
I think the first stanza says it all. Sharing the surreal with a dispassionate reader is very difficult as you are asking the reader to invest. Technically it works for me, though perhaps telling the dream in the present tense would make it...
Read full commentPosted in You understand, I think