Wings of Feathers and Wax -dVerse Poetics

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A solitary remnant

laid to waste, glued to the ground.

Once,

once upon a time

this delicate  creation

this deceptively ethereal whisper

assisted the majestic eagle,

it soared atop mountains

and touched the sky

singed by the sun.

Oh Icarus!

You peaked too son.


Tonight it’s time for dVerse Poetics, where Victoria invites us to write on the subject of feathers, in whichever way takes our fancy. This made me think (for a few minutes)! I was gong to write about the feather’s structure, but (as is often the case) changed my mind very early on. I tend not to fight the muse on these occasions, and go with her flow. I hope you like it!

Please do head on over to dVerse, enjoy the variety… or take part!

Bitter sun – Poetic Bloomings

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the (hang)-dog days of summer

tangle themselves in my hair

and the curlicue corkscrews plaster themselves

to my forehead, shiny and greasy with sweat.

I attempt to cool myself

and enjoy a chilled glass of wine

but all I get is a headache

a dry mouth and a hankering for shade.

Summer nights under the stars ain’t all that –

in the northern hemisphere,

once the sun has gone and the sky is cloudless

you’re wishing for your duvet

and a hot cup of tea.

stars may be beautiful, tiny jewels above your head

but they don’t protect you from the chill

and crawling gooseflesh skin.

Yah, kissed by the sun is just  a euphemism –

for scorching sunburn –

for skin raked raw by sand

and swimsuit straps,

and don’t even tell me about trying to pat yourself dry after that needle-sharp shower.

Me? I love summer…


 

Here’s my latest offering to my new found love – ah, Poetic Bloomings, you are a treasure! Tonight, we are asked to use four (or more) of the ten phrases that are often used to sum up the summer experience.

I had great fun with this – and please, take it all as tongue in cheek. I love what passes for Summer here in the UK, although I do wish we had more, errr, sun!

Please do hope on over to Poetic Bloomings to take part, or just read and enjoy!

Fevered – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

Here is my offering for Alastair’s Photo Fiction this week, inspired by the photo below.  Why not take part? And why not visit his photography and writing blog to take a look at his other photos…?

Copyright - Kattermonran

Copyright – Kattermonran

– Fevered –

I will never reach the end – the heat will sear me like meat on a spit. I imagine my hair crackling and frizzing, my skin crisping.

We are all but flesh.

I pause, blinking against the searing sweat flooding my eyes. The sting takes me back to a buried schoolgirl memory; a cross-country run in freezing January, the finale a lung-bursting incline to the crematorium.  The irony is not lost on me.

I would kill for that biting wind, for breath torn from my chest in frozen gasps, for skin encased with gooseflesh. Now all we have is a furious orange sun, farther away from our planet than ever, yet burning us alive latitude by latitude.

Winter is a myth.

I wipe my eyes against a sweat-soaked shirtsleeve and resume my climb.