PoetryPix
depictions by the rule of thirds; descriptions mostly freestyle words
Tag: british museum
You’re never alone with a phone
even in the bustle of the British Museum there is a space to be alone with your phone!
Peach of immortality
(i) new year has circled peach tree scratches bare faced moon first dream of the hare you run east with the west wind my body cold as late snow (ii) breezy peach petals the birthing hare squeals briefly flesh flushed with longing under mottled sheets I dream ancestors cursing red moon (iii) peaches cheek to cheek…
beneath your feet
golden treasure fished from Fishpool* ignominiously brought to earth workmen forged a building site of the Shire’s medieval hearth deep within the Sherwood forest cached the jewels and noble coin cast into the ditch like pewter for fear of loot or loot itself when the roses were at war to be rendered unto Caesar as peace settled up…
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