The Lynching (party) ......
The tree stands limp, dormant within a garish black unheard sky
Innocently displaying
(Mans inferiority complex)
Light reflects white which lays in leaf and dried blood
Which once flowed as two, then, young men
The dark is lost..in time..yet again
Angelic sprites hang as christmas baubles for those
Who seem fit to smile and point
So much white, in teeth and flesh
The shirt reflection is good and oh so good
And angelic and dark are ne-er the twain
And what a party! we would believe them say
With their bobbed hair and smile as bright as they
Could muster for the camera
The gaggle
The beast
Who in their filth and ignorance
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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The Difference in Daffodils......
I step out... Between man made Amber street lamps
And natures midnight blue, still life.... crisp, dampness
Not a soul to hamper, mood nor thought.
Moments before witching hour... Solitude
Strokes
My bitter twisted mind plus soul...
Walking
Waltzing internally through thoughts fields
And daffodils
Barely a murmur
They shiver softly (as I do)
In a
Cool
Crisp....
Mad march air
Cream
Eerie...
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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Steering Precision
For years I've hugged a dream
Not a very lady-like one
But then again
Who said, I am a lady?
Not me!
I want a pile of rustic junk
A few bicycles
A perambulator
A pile of wood
Nails plus aged string
So that I may finally set about
Creating
My favourite thing!
There is no need for long drawn out plans
Blueprint, mentally stored
Dare I say?
Yes! I'm good with my hands
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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Fickle Time
Center-piece to December
We swoon over evergreen pine
Nostalgia wistfully remember
An ode for such a short time
And we love it till we disassemble
Then throw out as old bean cans
How fickle is the feathers
That tickle the fancy of easily distracted
Human
Kind
Then we praise the humble daffodil
The homeliness of the oak
The weeping of the Willow
Ivy's strangulating choke
Yet, today I stood just feet away from
A most honourable nurturing pine
Displaying on its top leaves
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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Secret Look......... Adult Nature
Your eyes they soften
When desiring me
And i see your secret look
And i know things
Are how they should be
As im reeling on your hook
Then gently we dissolve
Into each others souls
Rejecting the outer world
Both unaware of all but us
With heightened senses unfurled
And i do relish
Breathe and sigh
As you release your mind
Then you do warm
Sweat and writhe
This is our moment blind
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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A Pagans Kiss.... Adult Nature
I danced amongst the damp verde fern
As rare as the day this bitch was borne
My flesh did contrast
My eyes stood wide
As i smiled upon Devons devine delicate form
I tinkered along the enticing stream
Which guided my humble
Naked frame
She glistened and smiled
Tinkered and whiled
Within full moon I lay unashamed
I tiptoed beneath her curtains of green
As I followed the sheep to shore
A cavern a cliff a viscous veracious
Biting sea
Oh beauteous
Bounty
I could ne-er ignore
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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Kids and Dogs and Monkey's
A slippery moustached man slid along the beach
Tiny monkey tethered upon his right shoulder
'want your picture taken lady, with the lovely monkey, only 50p! '
A white boxer dog, skirted at Billy Smarts circus
Ruffled collar, leaping through (flaming) hoops
The moustached ring master flicks his tailcoat, grins and bows
Straw hatted donkeys, sweating by the beach
Small children and large ladies sucking ice-creams
race on their backs as bawdy men smile and pocket small change
Sectioned glass bowls stored head high
As fairground fodder throw hoops to try win one bemused
Golden fish, dragged home in a plastic bag, swung by a small child
But the much loved mongrel, the heinz 57 (dog) he had it best
Latch street dogs with latch street kids
Racing free as a seagull then home just before dusk
For their tea...
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Mavis and Beryle.... Refined
Mavis and Beryl
(a couple of war wives out the front of their houses)
(Please note fag is cigarette and aye is yes)
So whilst the golden fire displayed nature in her prime
And oak trees stood proud and good in a regimental line
Dancing silhouettes tinkered, creating a wondering swaying scene
Mavis clad in rollers, upon her mop, she had chose to lean
A smelly fag she held in hand as a lady at a ball
Dreaming of Sherry and taffeta, turning the heads of all
Fingers extending as though she were the aristocracy
When up popped Beryl the girl next door
'Dya wanna a cuppa Tea? '
Mavis took a puff, then a breath, then left her world of mind
Said 'oh aye duck, I'd like that'
'you are so very kind! '
She stubbed it out, laid her mop then trotted up the path
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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The Hay Wane.... Adult Nature
Rushed within the barn of sin
Where sunlight sneezed through cracks that teased
Where livestock rested after light
I lay for you, your just delight
My whalebone bustier heaving breath
As two mounds fought for space, thats left
My petticoat risen past my knee
My knickerbockers.....
Your brown eyes
Expressed your thronging tease
Our laughs we hushed for fear of ears
Our bodies brushed and thrust
Ecstatic as
Excitement seared
We lay
And searched the layers of
Cotton which was just and light
Satin skin powdered delight
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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Chestnut Blight
As each fatigued day culls my nature
Mine mind does Judas thee
And tinker pon the waves of hope
Muted Banshee
My blighted roots once writhed hitherto
Severed from earths comely breast
Mother natures contempt of me
Fair mumsy, she knows best
(Stark)
I adorn no vibrant leaves
Laird, wooden beast
Plucked till I stood bare
No blightsome shade for sibling seed
From summers wretched glare
(Raving)
With chestnut blight, my ashen crown
Looms remorsefully
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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