Thursday 16 November 2023

Three Poems by Stephen Philip Druce

 



PLANET ZUGON

 

Subterranean beasts punch liquor ash tribes

to flash droplet in thunder bone caper and groove,

to skinny bloom jewel flaked rhythms of the bubble glide,

the toe drumming one-eyed, the pedalling fizz,

the monotony freak fish, the spinning blitz in

glitter ball gibberish,

 

as stirring sword tongues brew,

the sun snakes gorge on shrieked 

spleen to its riotous belly,

clamour to such book flesh,

as rackety seeds leap from 

dead chapters on paper horses, splashed

in drunken daisies and carnival wine,

 

a lava latent sunset spews its molten 

creatures sprawling beyond the shifting

precipice in its tender atrocity,

 

the delicate hands of the planet's gods,

cast their poker-faced monsters 

in shuffling cars that plot,

as misshapen grins in arching fountains,

pulse the hounds in shadowed gunshot,

 

Slowly unclenching the pollen stained

fists of the gods, unleash their disobedient

rivers of wine, to chase skimming birds

in spiked plummet, through desert diamonds

in ocean sky ants ablaze,

 

flying serpents dash with fire dragons,

in bullet wagons that race the clock,

voltage jets of flaming demons

beam devil spaceships in aftershock,

pixie arrows chase cannoned goblins,

skiing fairies cling to the mermaid train,

and lightning rockets zoom neck and neck

in a sky of bloody rain.

 

 

PLANET UGOLAZ

 

Where giants juggle cotton churches

in a blazing jewel dirt of spiked 

coyote swooning pause,

a clattered shred of streaking claws,

 

as lustrous tricks bloom seeded rainbow

orchards of thorn dust litter, ice flake 

trample crimson in a raging splendour,

 

gripping riddles feast on stilled vapor

carcasses in cornfields of screaming inertia,

bathed in a canvas of brazen clutches,

shimmering cracked walls

and manacled cat calls,

 

the eagle plot crept in a sail scratch

prowl of abandoned scarred circus skies

in chorus salute,

 

the cherry-winged clock tower,

the fleeing fingertips cower,

the shivered songbird serenade strum,

the coiling crackle beating drum,

 

a spiteful dusk of angels fold,

in a rich disarray of writhing cold,

the forked cocoon of steely wind,

the fleet of sprinkled foxes pinned,

 

the shudder perch - split and stacked,

the crystal river ripples cracked,

and lightning tigers in cloud ships roar

their sweetest melody.

 

 

PLANET VORLUDIAN

 

Eagle petals swoon with clutched raindrops,

bestowed from ballet clouds, in laced velvet,

bee-stitched lemon rays to quicken jet peach,

soft thunder shuffle lilac, as liquor pouring

stick figures trample on the weak like spider bones,

to bask in a triumphant posture of river smiles,

 

behind the shuttered rapture the raconteur pours

a diamond sun in splintered spear, across 

the strewn summit and the jagged frontier,

 

the sweeping singed residue of feathered orchestras

perish in the heedless wilderness, but majestic

in slumber, beckon my sweet guitar to swallow,

my pulse a trusted back beat for the skeletons to follow,

 

flesh lanterns apprehend hollow mutterings

in sea bed fleets, shipwrecked skulls nod to the beats,

in lost ships I saw the lancing angels

in coats of forgotten stitch,

under the strips of desert skin

I saw the old bones twitch,

 

I saw the broken spine of a stopped clock

as the scattered stars wept,

without the midnight chimes

the great conductor in the sky slept,

 

I saw misbehaving chariots clad 

in gazelle breeze run,

I heard the slurping palm tree leaves

devour a dripping sun,

 

I saw horses gallop under back street tunnels

that curved in graffiti art, a rainbow arc

illuminating in the dark and our names 

penned in a love heart.


Stephen Philip Druce Is a fifty eight year old poet from Shrewsbury in the UK. His poems are planet based. They describe the events that take place on the planets that exist in his imagination. 

Stephen's work has been published in the UK, India, Canada and the USA. He has written

for London theatre plays and Radio 4 Extra.

 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Two Poems by Dr. Sambhu R

  Gooseberries “Ours, too, a transitional species, chimerical, passing…”—Jane Hirshfield The zinnias and pansies in our garden wake as ...