dannyboy

Lost Tribe of Israel.

Apple cider time,
red cheeks, hearts -
heaving pirate ships
sailing The Cape of Good Hope -
fresh faced, pimples hardly
put to rest, being artists,
drink anything,
write important novellas,
act in avant garde plays
with voices so loud
mothers hushed from childhoods.

Compete hard, feast on words,
drugs and ideas like bees
in spring’s bloom; bright colours,
scents, kisses rained upon lips
or necks, the future –
a blanket tossed casually
upon the grasses of lust.

Time is no feast,
it is an eraser; years distant
from that long haired,
bright –eyed lad, do any of the others
stop now and wonder,
smile secretly,
hide shining eyes from wife,
husband or child;
glad in a secret pool of their soul,
they dined those years
before we lost each other
in the sand’s of life?

salvothasock

love the first stanza, seems different from your other pieces, thanks
-andy

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purple junk diluted iguana infested snarkleberries hungry traveller

dannyboy

yes this was an attempt at difference, though i think i was back to well trod ground by the last stanza. thanks S.

ms. vodka

hello dannyboy.

i find this piece to be much more abstract than many of your others, though it's still filled with all the excellent imagery one has come to expect from you.

it feels less reflective than much of your other work.

the raining of kisses was a touch cliche in my opinion.

and the line breaks are also sort of odd for you.

to me, this feels like a really good idea that you have just begun.

vodka

dannyboy

yes ms v i agree, this is one to be diddled with.....

teflon

Great poem, rich with imagery. Where is the conenction with the lost tribes?
The Promethean rock is on the shore of the modern day Yaffa-Tel -Aviv.

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The Secret Database