Words under pressure #1

No, it’s not good poetry, but it released something that wanted out.  And this is MY blog, so I can post it if I want to, heh heh!

The colours don't look quite real, but actually they're even stronger and brighter than this.

The colours don’t look quite real, but actually they’re
even stronger and brighter than this.

Island in the Sun

Hurtling across the earth’s face,
The shrieking plane violates
Heaven’s lofty peace, its pure moonscape.
This parody of flight, this facile travel.

And then the reprieve, the release
From their stinking shell. A birth into the sun.
Dazed and feeble, travellers emerge,
Inhale – and stumble blinking, confused.

Something magical, something far-off and strange.
A sense of other, a profound difference.
A sweeping rush of exhilaration.
A changed way of being.

The tremor is stilled, heartbeat slows.
In the sunlight, hummingbirds tremble and glitter.
Time to stop and watch. The race recedes.
The mind’s eye is dazzled, ultraviolet-lit.

White echoing cliffs, where the sea hurls
Lace-like foam onto the bony shoulders
Of ancient, fossil-crusted limestone.
High in the aching blue void, birds scream.

Sands: white, golden and shaded pink,
Soft and fine, like island sugar, whisper and blow.
The wind is strange, far-travelled,
Breathing its lonely, ten-thousand-mile breath.

Along the shore, the restless, unending
Refreshment continues, the world’s
Inexorable heartbeat, the surf, the tides.
Unceasing, eternal, ancient, ever-new.

Along the roads, the great grass, the cane
With its heart of sweetness, its heady promise
Waves above brilliant hedgerow jewels –
The wild orchids. Everyday miracles.


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