Seven Skies

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Seven Skies

Coloured by the light burning, the light murmuring, the light mouthing
Constant as a medium with the silk cloth over her head
The  golden fizzing lake of sunblinded eels
Scrying the why-whys, the inevitable return to not-knowing

At sunset behind the back door there is now ash of glass
Burned hair once stroked upon an upper lip in ecstasy of love

Who walks amid  blue-grey foaming billows?

On Orb Way gold rakes through astonished purple clouds
Expensive windows glint the dying day’s semaphore

The paint expands upon the damp paper
A  song  evanesces, call it a liede
This  violet spreading into aureolin
A terrific hissing of unwanted fireworks

The end of the visitation
Is always a shock.

 

Veronica Aldous 2016 all rights reserved.

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Collateral

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Diurnal/ Nocturnal- Portrait 
by Veronica Aldous All Rights Reserved 2016

 

Collateral

Past extreme as a photograph
Punch needling the surface of the present
The gap  between the platform and the train
The fact you walked around in the dark and rain
Not caring if I cared…
It’s art to understand adventuresses
The cold assailant ambitiousness
Of hunting down my man –
My only friend was lost

Since you were none.

Such thoughts are like branch lines
Closed off but still humming with graffiti
Weeping so hard my chest hurt
Paralysed in neon
Upon a frozen concourse
I stood gasping, raw eyed as a deer
Upon a blood stained plateau.

But there it is, you made a story of your life.
So neat and well defined in print
No jackknifed unpicked sprawling damage.

Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2016

 

 

How we write

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How we write

Is steps through hushing leaves, each footfall tempered
By the slowly sifting knowledge that each has passed
Its zenith, this  leaning on a moment where  breaths
Are  caesurae dividing the daylight until night falls
Sometimes rain spatters the pages, the spreading words
Translating tears upon the papery ground
A meaning slips into my pocket like your  big hand
Warming my thigh; as though the connection
Of  syllables is a sublime erotic contemplation
Of this you will know nothing
S
cratching your name again, again
Inking a useless stone.

 

Veronica Aldous All rights reserved 2016

 

Honey

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Honey

Longing for the murmurous voice that once sweetened sleep
The moss buttoned  tight across  the breast, each dusty mould
Finely crafted,  the exquisite tuning of thrumming insects
Such silvery hands, each turning the leaves
As the little flames lick the bent twist of sage
Read to me
The unmade wreath of piney needles as bitter to bite
As the tumescent sappy bulges of decaying wood
I make this tree, your tree.

Palmistry

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Palmistry

Who tickled the small tongues of the mosses
The lichens concentric mustard blooms?

Ran his hand along the wall to read the varying tufts
Spread out braille for a half blind man to read?

Who tore a tiny rooted being out of the crevice
To drop in my bag, a hushing finger to his lips?

What half-thrives on my kitchen sill
Among the things he loved and stroked?

Exquisite spare leaves, one or two pinking tendrils
I cannot touch such fragile supernatural fingers
Of course they are cold
Even  the sun misses you.
.

 

Veronica Aldous All rights reserved 2016

Original art: Heart-h by Veronica Aldous

Lost Cities

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Varanasi Windows-  Watercolour and collage on paper by Veronica Aldous 2016 All Rights Reserved

Lost Cities

The citadels beneath the Indus spiritises
My waking hours, as if just out of reach
There we go about our business
As if no calamitous anvil dropped
No bell clanged in a broken key
No drowning occurred, no cessation
Of the rhythmic pulses of co-existence
We hang the washing, eat and talk,

But deep under here, in sleep
I walk the labyrinthine snaking depths
Hear the ancient booms of sinking cargoes
Covered in ashes and dusted with pigments
Draped  in tattered silks I come and go

Tending the other, the elsewhere
Kneeling to plant  corals and pearls
That he he  may know that he is sought
Still honoured…
Beneath the terrifying ebb and flow.

 

Veronica Aldous 2016 All Rights Reserved