Month: Mar 2013

Still [sonnet]

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Reluctantly and sweetly deep within
a stark confession [w]rings me like a bell.
Defences that I’ve built are wearing thin.
I’m still in love with you with every cell.
I thought the surge would soon grow dim with time
alongside faded swells of passion shared;
like ripples on a lake which lost their prime
the further from the centre splash they erred.
The drug you are (on which I loverdosed)
had been out of my system for a while.
But now you float and haunt me like a ghost:
an ectoplasmic centripetal smile.
We never had the chance before to bloom.
Within this finite cosmos is there room?

© Alan Morrison, 2013

If I was Married to a Linden Tree [sonnet]

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If I was married to a linden tree
I wouldn’t need a ring for full of those
her widening trunk would every yearly be!
I’d shelter in the leafy roof which grows.
Her branches round my waist would tightly fit;
while every type of bird would flit and sing
for me with scented blossoms albeit
soon cut for tea in cups of bark she’d bring.
Perhaps you’ll think I’ve lost my way in love
to harbour such desires. But can’t you see
to love a tree will help you reach above
and from the hold of humans make you free?
I think a tree’s the only one I’d wed —
the mystery kept alive by what’s unsaid.

© Alan Morrison, 2013

Gender Bender [poem]

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dangling dangerously
feet first
legs swinging pendulously
unposed
in frozen shards of
rigor mortis
metal locks resembling
subterranean aftershocks
he gave a kindly nod
toward the half hung drawn and quartered
bloody-spattered brained
gratuitously tortured
lined and pitted cliff face executioner’s
endless scrawl

On the Election of the Pope [poem]

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on_the_election_of_the_pope

And so we have another pope upon the throne
or papa as he’s sometimes fondly known
though I prefer to call him GODFATHER
but not because he is a father sent by God
but more because the Vatican has long been known
to be in bed with those they call The Mob!

Continue reading…

Roller-Coaster [sonnet]

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Your undulations crash against the cliff
on which I have forever stood with awe.
Beneath my feet a telling hieroglyph
engraved in rock evokes a higher law.
Then elemental foamly calms assure
me I can blend my surgesome pulsing flow
of restless blood with every drop of your
entrancing dream-enhancing power show.
For I am not inert and flaccid flesh;
but heaving deep and moved by moonly beams.
Just like the sea I weave and intermesh
and float my soul in tranquil storm extremes.
It only takes one leap to brave your brine.
The same applies to those who will brave mine.

© Alan Morrison, 2013