some old but recent poems...

ISN

Round heather bells
swung on her frozen
hair
and the sound of
heathen chants
rang about her
at the
fire.
She heard hymns of
Thursday
and the sound of pine cones
cracking
and their sighs.
Round heather bells
swung on her brazen
hair
and the sound of
swedish dirges
written for the desert antelope
came through
but she heard a tale
of gory told
by the shy chimney
at the rocking
of the rimmed
Sun.
She lost her mind
in a game of chance
and knew she'd
gone too far.
But there were
the torreador
tassle boys to
call her back to
town on tingle-
fingered drums
and tingle-tummied
hollow drums.
Round sounds
assault her as
she comes
to down
to town
and feather
fish and swish
feather fish
swish in her
heather hair
around her gorgeous
heather hair.
The tingle boys
swear she bathes
in blue.
She wished.
She wished.
She wished.
And swished
to town.
Oh, feed on suns
and drop those
branches -
cut them up
and tell all
the scissor tales
of meddle
meddle -
tell the tales
of brick and
weed and feed
the flower faster.

TyeDye

Reading that in the kind of daze that only comes from being awake at 2.30am was an intense experiece.

I like it

ISN

thanx.....I think everyone should read it at 2.30am or at least after a bottle of wine.....:)