Sunday, November 6, 2016

Mikaela Castledine #311 Running the Gauntlet in Waverley Cemetery

Witness
the fitnessing of their bodies
as proof against untimely death
they push their sprints along
the double row
of dead and dare
the sharpened fingers to reach
in and squeeze their hearts
to squirming
as they run the gauntlet through
the middle of Waverley cemetery
and all their lycra tightness
won’t be enough
to hold them in from spilling
in such life thirsty ground

9 comments:

  1. Quite surreal. Were they racing in the cemetery? Or were they jogging through?

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    1. There is an avenue that runs steeply up through the middle of the cemetery and they were doing sprints from bottom to top with personal trainers yelling all the way!

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    2. Crikey! No respect for the dead...

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  2. THAT'S NO WAY TO PAINT RAVENS


    that's no way to paint ravens
    at night on the roadside
    in the headlights

    past the silent graves
    that’s no way to end a life
    there’s a small hotel

    in the balance of the dip
    you’re just a bit behind
    too late for something

    that’s no way to shoe a horse
    with carrot and lump of sugar
    the story of your travels

    that’s no way to hit a nail
    sanding the heavy handle
    looking for a reflection

    that’s no way to hear the wind
    earphones and volume
    a brain full of fury

    with ears with tears
    those years those fears
    you are listening too slow

    that’s no way to reach the light
    thinking of maybe heaven
    your grace in the dark

    turning left always left
    outside in the rain
    the colour is running


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    Replies
    1. Love your work Rob - as always! xxM

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    2. You are kind, dear Mikaela. Thank you. This poem fetches up as #144. A few significant changes...

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