Lucidity whispered
enticing delicate wisps
into vacuous action;
protecting the cataclysmal gape
that pulsed
in want of a name.

Silent grave
where temptation wanted
waned, meandered a while
in Spring’s strength
and died all the same.

As fat raindrops
plopped, reincarnating
on green grass blades
drowning in their quest
to satisfy chlorophyll
fuelled cells,

I stood, wept, then danced.

For when death called,
in his grey wicken ash-
I wore red,
feet bare-mud encased,
your wintry kiss
on my lips.

12 responses to “Chromatopography

  1. Loved this poem, Shan. It is so you. I can even hear your Welsh voice reading the poem and hear your tears. And the red. Yes! Beautiful! xx

  2. Damn the torpedoes, Shan…wear that red…A Jezebel in the face of death. This poem read aloud is luscious…Great write!

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