Wednesday 24 June 2015

The Sphynx

The wood is detonating. 
The skirts squash dispiriting lump with a nervous sock. 
A speedboat releases, puzzled. 
Yet, appealingly, appreciatively watching, a sphynx injects calm.
It gives a spark to a pocket, no longer castrated with worms. 
And dews fall in frantic closets. 
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5 comments:

  1. Magical Mystical Teacher24 June 2015 at 06:03

    From the detonating woods to the frantic closets, there's a lot of frenetic activity here. And yet, in the center of it all, is the calm sphinx. Maybe this poem is a reflection of our lives: If we look to the place of calm, we can endure the frenetic activity.

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  2. Jae Rose24 June 2015 at 06:13

    I couldn't have put it more eloquently than Magical...amidst the chaos and confusion is that steady beast of stone - we could all use one of those perhaps

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  3. rallentanda24 June 2015 at 07:04

    Castration with worms? Well at least no longer.

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  4. Sheilagh Lee24 June 2015 at 08:42

    I like the calm that the sphinx beings. love this poem

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  5. J Cosmo Newbery25 June 2015 at 05:25

    Strangely disturbing. Disturbingly strange. Do you know what a Bex is?

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