Sunday, April 29, 2012

Crowmarsh and London

Category: Poetry/Lyrics

I was a kid from Crowmarsh.
You were an alien angel,
strange-faced, all angles.
You gave me outside sweets,
full of chemicals, colours
beetle-bright and refreshing.
I swapped them for strawberries,
that whole summer
smelled of strawberries.
We talked when we tired,
damp-skinned, heavy-limbed.
You told stories that buzzed like a city,
a hive, alive with the urge
to make honey, make money,
make something of yourself.
I cocked an eyebrow, skeptical.
You kissed my nose and left.

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Old Comments

  • This is the second time I’ve seen the word “beetle” this evening on Litmocracy. Is this the same author? If so, advise lose one beetle or not publish both beetle-involving poems in same issue.  Admittedly, “beetle” is a great word.

    I think the other one with “beetle” is better, but this one is great, too.

    Posted by julianyway  on  05/04  at  02:03 PM
  • Yes, I wrote both of them. I guess I have a bit of a beetle obsession at the moment!

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  05/04  at  03:30 PM
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