Some splendid offerings for prompt number 11 of 30, which is very much a pair of ragged claws. Love this one from Charley Genever…
A spiral of seaside under padlock;
patrolled itch, parted by transparent scuttle.
There’s no ignoring a haunting.
I don’t know which night’s ambush
is the patient with the pattern,
or which star is the blue-bollock to blame.
They’re all carriers of some kind of plague.
Pincers for the exorcist,
they speak like the police,
call the fucking mystery machine.
Try to wank it off.
Fail the phantom weight.
I am bound by plasma;
deep redded shame, melt the ghosts away.
… while Harry Gallagher comes at the prompt from a different angle with this ode to a friend with physical disabilities.
(im, Dean Wycherley, owner of Middlesbrough’s great Record Shop c.1980)
You were the chalk among cheese,
a crab amid speedwalkers,
a lonesome goalkeeper
in a world full of strikers.
Crutches thrown off like unwanted confetti
that never quite landed on your path.
No listener adoring your whistling vowels,
who knew the difference between a cry and a laugh.
No footsteps to echo through
the cathedral of your mind,
stacked with facts, top to toe,
colour coded, neatly filed.
All they saw were the signs
Keep Away From The Edge,
As if you led to some dangerous
they stayed safe at
more than arm’s length;
away from incomprehension
and its attendant embarrassments.
Books and their covers
make uneasy bedfellows,
when laying straight
is more than a struggle.
Thanks for reading, if you’re enjoying these prompts then why not send me something of your own? Or follow to get a new batch of experimental writing every day. Tomorrow, we investigate The Nature Of Things.
OK, here’s my little offering, to finish up!