Summer unrest

Noon-traipsing antagonist of silence
Midday’s heavy heat no blanket
that cannot be shredded
From the wall’s gleaming white
ceramics stumble and fall
A wake-up call to whom it may concern
The bowl is empty.


Lifted from the grime
unencumbered, unresolved

Wings furtively spread
raining down false residue

Rained-on in the mire
stay the wingless, watching the

Tightening the strings
binding freedom to shoulders

Soaring on the wind
wings unfolded; patterns bared –

News of a stabilised reign

Cry to us, travelling town crier, of the coronation,
of gleaming metals never glanced upon here; just glum copper,
of velvet and visions that don’t involve us.

Tell your tale, tale-teller,
and don’t leave out the licentiousness and the late-hour brawls
for us to relate to lest we wander off forlorn,
lest our serf-hearts stray from the crown’s signpost.

Gossip about gowns, gossip-mongerer,
worn by haughty highborn, forever out of reach but still hideous.
Convince us to care if you can;
let us agree on palace attire while our men assemble in the barns.
Reap our attention, report back our loyalty; keep your eyes off the robbers.

Adventure’s beginning

Morning under the tree crowns
Sun’s rays splitting the dream
Voices tearing up rest’s veil
Mercilessly dawned

Dawning realisations
Droning voices explain
Thoughts converted to headaches
Piercing fading peace

Peace and knowledge forgotten
Yet demands stay the same
Blurred the edge of awareness
Back into the game