Poem -

Sylvia

Burn or preserve?
Frantic and free unfolding 
During an iron of affliction,
Curtains over Europe 
In 1963.

A brush of leaves in winter.
Frost in the ground 
Killed the morning flower.
Duchess of thrives 

Whereabouts you pin to the 
Stars your signature governess?
Would they look for you over 
Prime Rose Estate,

Or find you St Thomas A.
Beckett Churchyard Heptonstal
West Yorkshire 
Where you rest?

What proof is it you needed 
Digging the father up
To have to find him dead?
It is a real thing,

The will to lay over and not get up again.
Is it encouraging?

I'm off in Spring guiding curtain air sails,
Lorelei Sirens.
When I sit down to it 
I think I will enjoy it.

Like 4 Pin it 2
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Comments

author
Lorna

Hello Rory, I enjoyed this, it has a sentimetal kind of darkness to it, great imagery 
lorna 

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author
Rory McGinlay

THAT sounds like the title of a book! A sentimental kind of darkness. Brilliant 

Reply
author
Neville

I have no objection whatsoever in pinning something as original as this 

Reply
author
Shirley Harrison

What proof is it you needed 
Digging the father up
To have to find him dead?
It is a real thing,

Oh I just got deja vu. What a wonderful stanza as is all. 

Brings my mind into a swirl of imagery and all sorts, including the Berlin wall,  Kudos Rory. 🌹 

 

Reply
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