Fanciful

The tumble weed shamans are
summoning dust devils in the driveway
as rain falls from a clear blue sky.
Power lines are cavorting crazily
leaving shadowy skid marks
upon the pavement as the wind
pretends that they are a swing set.

My fence is having a party, slats leaning
for inebriated support upon each other,
the odd one failing and falling upon the ground.

That grass is a riot, spouting anarchist
hyberbole at the horizon, that chaos will prevail,
and they will get there, given time.
I think they just might.

The fire is raging in its steel prison,
waxing innocent, though its passion appears
to be waning. "Quit your whining," I say,
adding fuel to its fire. Its anger warms me.

I am a spy at night, deeply under cover;
I am near the end now,
exposing the darkness
of my lover.

Bruce Herbert Fader 04-27-2013 13:53
-For Bumblebee-

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 04/27/2013 06:05PM by Boo Cipher.

exposing the darkness/of my lover...

the simple complexity of that perception makes the readigng worthwhile tonight.

amo et avanti,

Peter

I like the mystery of this one Bruce. A good read.

Les

In the first four stanzas I thought you were describing a storm or a hurricane, but the last two indicate a different type of storm.

Very interesting read.

Ian B
(fka cityprod)

This is fantastic and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

break out lines for me:

That grass is a riot, spouting anarchist
hyberbole at the horizon, that chaos will prevail,
and they will get there, given time.
I think they just might.


BRAVO