a pixel fly headbutts a window pane a rippling aurora skews sights wrapping the tin of a car like a halo chattering crumbs cluster over one another like waves of sticky beetle limbs flustering to avoid contact with the cloud-wreathed flaming sun an august cyclops rose bows baronially under the weight of its petal ruff and blood sparkling thorn cuff a clock's flamboyant hands chase one another around its flat face in time with the ticking above a crabbing plane seems to want to dive bomb me its stuka shark jaw slavering grimace could pirouette plummet into my x-marks-the-spot roof wipe me out, wipe me out like an error on a whiteboard with your little finger during a lecture about aerodynamics wipe me out, like the black head spot I am, then pop me like a zit then smear my remains across the mirror like a squashed fly, like a hugging aurora, like the crumbing crumbs, like a nosing rose, like a flattening air crash, so you can admire your yellowing toothy smug grin
John Gay, English poet and dramatist, was born today in 1685.
The Tunguska event, a large explosion, generally attributed to the air burst of a meteor, occurred today in 1908.
A really nice poem
Some of it is so graphic and takes you to visualize with the poet
Please try to read that last blog of mine even though it might be a little lengthy and give me your true honest review
Would be very much appreciated
Truly wonderful
I love the imagery in your poem, especially the clock description. Such wonderful writing.
Awesome poem even if it is gross in places.:-) Very visual. The fly(?) photo is super cool, too!
Wow !!!!
Thanks
YOU DO HAVE A WAY WITH YOUR WORDS! 😀