Evening Primrose

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Portrait of sadness by Agnieszka Lorek

Before the light of day
slips behind the moon
the maple tree glows red,
In tendrils of spidery webs
my fingers caress the earth,
Overcome by
the delicate aroma of evening primrose,
blossoms exposed on dusk.
The warmth of the sun fading –
the cool air weighs
heavily around my shoulders,
the lace shawl a slip across my vulnerability.
The beetles scuttle across the grass below,
Searching for a place to call their own.
I, a shapeless shadow,
disguised by the comfort of night
white stargazer lilies
upon the burial site,
a stagnant boulder
my eyes aching in
fits of weeping,
red rimmed and creasing,
hysteria took my heed.
Taken to the ground
my tears and
all my days gone,
Dawdling,
an ancient story
buried below,
Untold,
Goodbye my love.
Unfold my limbs across
our final resting place
Under the sun and
Clouded night.

I’ll lie with you all my days.

J.CALVERT 2016

Rabbit Run, Part 2

The bastard was hiding in the dark, Between dusk and dawn, Rope and cigarette, Smouldering fag end, Master of hysteria, Take it all off, Stripped of my winter coat, Wrists in hitch knot, Chains and hoist, A net and begrudge, … Continue reading

Aphrodite’s Golden Apples

Thousands of years ago,
Cloaked in ancient tides,
Of velvet night,
Showered in raindrops and silky skies,
A face as breathtaking as dawn,
She, swathed in perfumed garments,
Of gold and silk,
Myrtle-garlands fanfare in ebony locks,
Her white veil parted, the curtain draped,
Casting shadows on an ivory cream face,
Lips as pink as a Gallic Rose,
A symbol of Aphrodite’s love,
Golden apples taste so sweet,
In her garden, by the sea.