Unfold The Untold
Visitor to a desolate and decrepit house,
stood derelict and despondent without human spouse,
wayward lighting creeping from the walls,
illuminating an eerie passage down its halls.
Wandering in the sitting room I spot a bookshelf,
A vast vat of knowledge and mind wealth,
yet set atop of a dusty veneered armoire,
sits a magical musty lacquered grimoire,
filled to brim with fantasy tales,
with narrator ready; the story regales.
Decaying papyrus crumbling once recited,
almost as if flint-sparked and ignited,
with the flames of desire and passion,
of the author’s imagination, flair and fashion.
Written in such delicate scripture,
it tells of a sweet princess so demure,
of dragons with breath so famously flamed,
with fairies melodramatically and magically framed,
multiple mounted knights creating ensiform shadows,
as seraphim cast dayglow light from soul-plated halos,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Dystopia
Abiding to a dictator's scheme,
Suffering a depressive regime,
Have to suppress emotion,
Happiness an absurd notion,
Everywhere that we move,
We ride the fascist groove.
Though we live to choose,
Every decision we seem to lose,
Our life has become depressed,
All pleasure has been repossessed,
Victim of the eternal grind,
‘No Exit' can you find.
Ton of bricks about to cascade,
All hope beginning to fade,
Always criticised, never praised,
Never ending low days,
Brow etched with a frown,
Permanently let down.
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Psychotic Prankster’s Reaction
When I’m an old timer,
I’ll walk into a diner,
order a bowl of custard,
with a large dollop of mustard!
Diving in head first,
to quench my thirst,
belching ‘til your eardrums burst!
Once I’ve qualified for
cheap fares on the bus,
and smell of musty dandruff,
mixed with underarm fungus,
I’ll get a pet dog,
and share her fleas,
whilst brandishing and
hurling allsorts of obscenities!
When I’m an old fogey,
won’t sit in the corner, growing mouldy,
I’ll take off my stereotypical flat cap,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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When You're Ready
This verse isn’t about sex or love,
no, no you know it’s sweet and good,
tell me what keeps you up at night,
tell me why you’re so full of fright,
don’t say it’s the surrounding neighbourhood,
what makes you think you’re misunderstood?
Did someone hurt you?
If so, what did they do?
Are you ill or have some form of injury?
Is this what makes you lash out in fury?
Maybe you’re trapped in a nightmare,
and it’s all to much for you to bear,
there is no need to lock yourself in a prison cell,
just remember I’m here, if you need someone to tell,
I can take it, for we’re going steady,
so please confide in me when you’re ready…
Did they say you’re bland and uninteresting?
Then let me tell you that they’re only jesting,
please don’t fall in to your pit again,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Moonshadow Memory
Moonlight shines on hilltop cobble stones;
column of wanderer's benchmarked memory.
Far from the reach of any mobile phones
I stop as my eyes are steeped in scenery.
If you asked that majestery stood before me
then I would simply nod, distant thoughts concur.
Adrift in the midnight mistral, I appear ghostly;
I ask in despair driven voice “Have you seen her? ”
Only silence answers, wintery wisps wrap tight
in my panicked thoughts, creating fearful illusions
of all those laid here in remembrance’s might.
An ominous daunting sifts through fog in protrusion.
There in the gloom; teasing shadows loom,
monumental stone haunts with Celtic cross
as tears cascade in silver streams under the moon,
silent silhouette beset by the amassed haze of loss.
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Metamorphic Myth
Sprung from the blood of a Gorgon,
I take flight in to the morning sun,
Wandering whimsically within welkin
Wanton wind wafts wings into a spin,
For like Icarus my seraphic feathers drop,
As I tussle in the sky with a great ruhk.
Defeated I descend back to the earth,
Tumbling as I land, I scorch the turf,
Arising from ash and ember quagmire,
Reborn from the spark of a Phoenix’s fire,
But embraced by an Efrit’s impassioned spirit,
It causes the charred bog to bubble and spit.
Condensed vapour transforms into a Kelpie,
Relentlessly thundering towards the sea,
As if drawn by Charybdis’ undercurrent pull,
Almost a magnetic urge nothing can cull,
Until we’re drowned deep within the depths,
With Hippocampi witnesses to our deaths.
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poem by Dale Mullock
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The Red Head
With her lush auburn tresses, sultry red glossed lips,
and flashing green eyes,
she walks by wearing a lavender blue sequined dress,
adorned with pearls,
she switches and sways that dress as she passes by,
with that suave swaggering walk,
rouge touched cheeks highlights her pale complexion,
she sets the gossip mongers tongues to talk,
whilst making men breathe long sighs.
Her perfume trail tantalises everyone’s noses,
tinting the air with the sweet scent of roses,
with a quick kiss blown on to the wind,
a flighty wink to suggest someone has sinned,
a flash of her ripe creamy thighs,
that sets men's blood racing to thrilling highs.
A slight and gamely pout, does start to sprout,
into a sultry grin, making you think you’re in.
She laps up all the commotion and attention,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Efflorescent Catch
I’m in a garden, amongst the blossoms,
alive with floral scents and insects in flight,
I am one of those delicate rose buds,
so I open my soft petals to the sunlight.
Yet the wild world is harsh,
I am fondled by a pollen seeking bee,
so I shyly fold my petals over my pistil,
to keep at bay the demons from the apiary.
In the breeze I elegantly sway,
brushing my petals with your fingertips,
plucking me from the sea of floribunda,
cupping my corolla, you raise me to your lips.
You take a breath and inhale my floral aroma,
filling your lungs with a sweet desirable smell,
but you don’t cast me back down to the ground,
for I’ve enamoured you with my alluring natural spell.
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Aerodynamic Lips
Press the pause key and hold it right there,
Freeze frame the love that is in the air,
Can you see the curvature of her face,
Of which my eyes must caress in trace,
In this snapshot you can hear the theme,
The title track that keeps your soul agleam,
Whispered words float on vibrant strings,
As kisses are sent to me on flowing wings,
Flying across the distance to find my cheek.
Like a modern cupid my heart she does seek,
But she no longer uses a bow and arrow,
Now she’s armed with a mouth silo,
Ready to launch a love missile,
Aimed to make me eternally smile,
Target locked straight onto my heart,
Real love and care is about to start!
The missile explodes and my heartbeat does accelerate,
My breath becomes so excited that I hyperventilate,
Leaving me in breathless gasps of fevered ardour,
Causing my ecstatic emotions to stratospherically soar!
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poem by Dale Mullock
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Visitations Of Light
In the light of a summer morn,
An orange bleached day is born,
Radiating your affable warmth to those beneath,
Giving wholesome heart to those with belief,
With your solar smile spreading the light of the day,
Inducing the incentive to go out and play.
A celestial crepuscular crescent moon invokes,
Nictating star sparkling night strokes,
Until church bells chink, clunk and chime midnight,
So that once faint meniscus moon, now shines bright,
Behind velvety clouds creating a dancing silhouette,
Of a happy swirling shadow no one will ever forget.
Encompass me in your sunshine,
Sanctify me in shadow’s soft surprise,
Share with me your quality time,
While our heavenly high-spirited hearts harmonise.
A sprightly strobing sunrise show,
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poem by Dale Mullock
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