PEN FOR ME A FOUNTAIN
Pen for me a fountain -
a watercolor vessel,
a cartoon cat crescendo
in a jigsaw sparrow wrestle,
a crinkled sitar interlude -
an arching escapade,
a peeling potion scissored
in a scamper marinade,
pen for me a fountain -
an icicle precession,
a stream of marching embers
in a hanging straw confession,
atomic sitar deserts -
a clustered cactus folly,
a rustling herd of thunder
in a lashing sodden jolly,
pen for me a fountain -
a pollen mist regatta,
a wilderness of chapters -
a jangling limpet harbour,
in a lather tip toe tapestry
of waterfall finesse,
the curdled voodoo violins
embroider to undress,
pen for me a fountain -
a valley storm quintet,
a fluttered feather dalliance -
a dewdrop jelly set,
like alphabetic ribbons -
a starry stitch amok,
in a lampooned ocean lullaby
the phoenix patterns flock.
WHERE THE MUSIC DROWNED
The sunsets played their violins -
the alley cats on double bass,
the tree tops plucked on mandolins -
the night time trumpets knew their place,
the street lamps sang in baritone -
the lemon pipes - a crooning yellow,
hurricanes blew saxophones -
a distant thunder played piano,
the rescue sirens added flute -
the snowflakes danced to drum machines,
the clocks in key - they followed suit -
as beating suns shook tambourines,
the midnight chimneys harmonized -
the echo bridges whistled tunes,
the rain guitars electrified the dogs
to bark through cloud bassoons,
a scarecrow wind of castanets -
a rodent busked the underground,
the moon it dropped a clarinet -
in a river where the music drowned.
PLANET MORDAZIUM
On planet Mordazium,
circling flesh machines
grind their juggernaut
limbs like cathedral
castanets,
sea dragon sequels
stiffen fairy tale drunkards
in a meditation froth of
cross legged swamps,
railroad slingshots flame
bedlam vipers into
the sullen gut of
sun goose passageways,
in a reptilian symmetry,
iron messengers drift
through reservoir centuries -
under wishbone bridges
of surrendered skin,
in a timeless fruit wizardry,
carnival veins scuffle
in a syrupy resurrection
of merry leaf intricacy,
below the cunning wheat,
overthinking clock hands
conceal slow-burning villains
in a trapdoor composure of
bladed tranquility,
as headless servants
buckle in a honeydew
of squalid chance.
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. His work has been published in the UK, India, Canada and the USA. He has written for London theatre plays and BBC Radio 4 Extra.
