Seeing the path of quietness by the river Ouse.
The air is full of crushed wild garlick.
My heart thumping in anticipation, when
A loud gong sounds in my ears, falling
Falling, falling, and dandelions jumping
Into my mouth, tasting of a strange passion,
Gasping, floating, kaleidoscope, green,
Yellow, the texture of stars, tentacles
In my pocket a sense of jumbles, then again,
A slipping away, a taking by one in authority.
A hand across my chest, feeling, and
My mobile slipping away, needed
By someone in authority. What right?
I have no right. Transgressed. Humbled.
Eating star shapes, blades, and crumbled
Unspeaking, unmoving, unseeing, but feeling
Fading footsteps, pounding, vibrating in my head,
Red clouds merge into purple, green,
Blue, spots of yellow, then black.
Greyness and blackness, throbbing.
Where is my wife?
Where is my first? Has she gone?
My second, my third, drift around me.
What where why
Do they not speak or greet me?
But fade in, fade out.
The kaleidoscope spins
Flouridatomising my dreamambulator,
And concustopendulating my system of
Cocongenital-epicentre chloristic ideas
And summatogondalistic wavycrazing.
A hotti-licky my noseymouth forred
An ohmagoddikittens, redcrimson drippings,
Am callingambulansicator, quickspeeding down
Nohesitating, Oakenpingate lane, lapsing,
Ping, ping, ping.
Who is he, who is he?
Disinfectant, clean white pillow,
And vision coming round,
Retracing an unknown tributary
And joining mainstream again.
“Bring, bring is here a water me glass?”
The words are deliberately made up to indicate
someone in semi-consciousness and disorientated.
This is Poem 2.
Poem 1 is called Foam and Anger.
The task is for me to write a poem about Spring using synaesthesia,
which you can look up.
This is my homework from the Ashby writers' workshop this week.
Please advise me if this is better
then the next poem, called Unexpected Encounter.
You see I have done two poems,
but must choose only one.
Thanks for the pic.