If you close your eyes ….

If you close your eyes, can you hear
the sea-shell hiss of silence or
the distant echo of existence

If you close your eyes, do you sense
scented traces of lavender
with a hint of sacred hyssop

If you close your eyes, listen –
can you hear the birch blethering
as the breeze brushes past the leaves

If you close your eyes, crush the leaves
do you inhale zest of verbena
or essence of purple sage

If you close your eyes, can you taste
spicy notes of helichrysum
wafted on a passing gust

If you close your eyes, inhale –
does a whiff of Coty lipstick
prompt an Italian flashback

Open your eyes
breathe in
heed the Kookaburra
crush the leaves of of the eucalypt
breathe out

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The pink glove

Ah,

glove –

hiding?

but still pink –

how did you escape?

did your right hand abandon you?

I guess I should say sorry but I don’t want pink gloves

I want racy, lacy, leather,

see-through and blatant

frivolous

sexy

black

gloves

Pink

looks

pretty,

they tell me,

adds a touch of froth –

I don’t like capuccino

but long for aromatic, freshly ground espresso

thickly black as liquid leather

can you imagine

Marlene (Marlena)

in pink

at

all?

So

glove

you see

that is why

I threw you away

you are not for me now I’m old

I desire black, burgundy, cerulean blue

carnelian and celadon

dragon’s blood or gold

but never

a drunk

tank

pink

 

Published in The Fib Review #29 – February 2018

http://www.musepiepress.com/fibreview/diana_stevens1.html

 

3 February 2018 – Ghost Train

Ghost Train

Sunday, arrive late at the station,

grass is growing, no-one is here –

warped rails blistered with orange,

in the eaves pigeons poop

cooing stridently

strutting to flaunt

their stuff to

willing

hens

 

High

above

a sky-lark

soars, warbling its

rainbow melody

peace descends – heat rises

from tar-drenched timber sleepers

I wait in vain to hear a toot

or whistle or a chug of white steam

 

(A Nonet)

 

February 2018 – Lorelei

Looking back to a cruise down the Rhine in July, enjoyed with loved ones.

P1080906

The Lorelei Rock, Rhine Gorge

The Lorelei

Cleft

through

shadowed

inclines of

metamorphic rock

green vines march vertically down

yielding homage to Dionysus and Apollo

casting their green gaze across to

Lorelei whose song

is certain

death to

charmed

men

January 2018 – Bridge to Nowhere

 

 

The Bridge to Nowhere

Bridge to Belhaven Bay

 

Near high tide the bridge is beyond reach

as salt-crusted steps become sea-lapped.

An incoming flow rushing beneath

mingles river loops, to race sun shadows

rippling across mud-coloured sand.

Motionless gulls crouch facing the wind

grey white pebbles with parallel beaks.

Crossing to the shore for now is barred.

I must wait for another tide or turn

to lean into the wind, make my way

to the sea-wall of sculpted red sandstone

which leads to the saltmarsh, where I listen

to the skylark’s mantra before reaching

the other side of the bridge to the Bay.

 

Published in Wild Words (2014) – A collection of work by Dunbar Writers