Last years
Sodden relic
Browns in decrepitude
And skeletal memory.
Next years
Tightly packed,
Protected shoot
Waits in green expectancy.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
season
Merry Commercial Christmas
All aboard
Shouts Santa’s
Tannoy’d voice
In scourge of jingled
Agro-vertisment:
The under thought
Merrily singing
– sell, sell, sell –
To the tinsel touched
Whose endorphin mush
Thinks
– buy, consume,
Oh hello hell of
Dis-con-tent-ments
Purchasing.
Halloween is barely
Rid its mask
Yet machinery
Is yanked to start:
The conveyer belt –
With only 41 shopping days
Panic due –
Has the duped
Of wanting wide
And kids enlisted eyes
Firmly in its
Gravitational yaw
And pull.
Oh Jesus
Kill me
With a plastic sword
Or heal me of time’s crucifixion,
For I fear
I will not last
This carol-blasted
Foe-fun benediction
Of warm sentiments
Twinkling and contrived,
Nor has my wallet
Felt so pauper-ly old.
Maybe someone
Will get me a new one
This season’s opportunity
To retail with impunity
And give it me
With a measure
Of layered guilt
Festively applied.
Merry Commercial Christmas everyone!
It’s barely but November time!
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
Chance Late Flower
A chance
Late flower
Matures
Even while
All around
Become wearisome.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
Autumnal Leaves
In the trees’
Brown shedding,
Loosened in November’s
Murk
And grey clouded
Movement
Northerly,
And with the lessening,
Light falling back
In earth’s tilt
Wintery,
Gusts come
To lick the leaves,
Scurry them
If they will heap
And hurry,
Or Drive the well wrapped,
Buttoned-up shoppers,
Bluster haired
And wind blithery,
To tread them
From browns to black,
If already
Moist paper,
Mulch layering
The sticky pavement walked.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
The Earth’s Pulse
The earth’s pulse
Is felt:
Some attune,
Some tarry,
Some skip ahead,
But all
Are gathered
In the end.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
Once Bold
As life
Is called to the root
And winter’s closet,
To sleep
In earthen cloak
And fold
All that was fine summery
And light green
Is made russet
And tinged gold
In withdrawing chromatography.
The once plump
Is made papery
And freckled
With age,
And transition
Is fading display
Of the bold
Brought
To its beautiful knees.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
Autumnal Gold
The Autumnal gold
Of a faraway sun
Attunes perfectly
With the leaf litter
Strewn loose
And curled tan
In brown banks
Of crisp exsanguination.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
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