Crystal Snoddon: Poetry and other Lamentations
Fusions
photo credit: Crystal Snoddon
Vernon Now
rakes an arthritic hand through grey hair, slumps over to the bay window Dappled day, here we sway, here we go round the mulberry bush, stands, stares. Tangled by boxwood borders the mulberry bush, the mulberry birds flit to and fro from the thicket. Vernon’s rheumy eyes track bush, here we go round the green verdant leaves. “Meal time, Vernon,” Tyrannical Tyrannisaurus Vex, we’re going round here- “Here, Vernon, let me help.” He brushes off hands who try once more to steer him by the elbow, steer him away with a stagger and sway We should go round before the light is all gone, he bleats, peeks backward to the window, a child in short pants, with a tear that drips from his eye.
* * * * *
Read It Cold- a prose poem
Nibbles of the latest news are all my stomach can digest of late. It has been too hot, too ambitious, the acid bubbles up over fragile skin, burns in violent etches the homebody landscape I’ve attempted to create from amorphous ether. Emotion. There is just too much bloody emotion being served on this plate of uncooked circumstance. The newspaper lining drips of it, the newscasts are smugly sated, filled with lip-licking smiles. Unsavory wills, jockeying for jurisdiction smell repugnance. I picture Caligula, cheering from the side, picking his teeth with a shaft of a humerus, while bodies amass for the feasting. Tears abrade my eyes, I tear away from these unholy moments, to return later and nibble away at tenuous knowledge once it’s grown cold.
https://thelightekphrastic.com/february-2017-issue-29/zubak-snoddon-demond-february-2017/
photo credit: Crystal Snoddon
It was Whispered
it was whispered by wind sweeping Arctic waters
white bears stood listening to tumbling ice-pack roar echo into the rising sea
grows in gale voice of drowned atolls their upswept ground calling waves calling
calling to their bloating mother whose peaks weep into her firs cascade into an ocean of her tears
wind whispers past unheard.
Invested
agile limbs hover in want for
freshest fruit foraged by
unseen hands
deliberately rough
toil days upon days
culminate to
boil in hungry froth
we feast vigorously
biting into hot wanton flesh
gnash past sorrows sinew
save the pit, the core,
for more may not come tomorrow.
https://communicatorsleague.com/2017/01/19/two-poems-by-crystal-snoddon/
