Lonely Hunter

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Lonely Hunter

The lawnmower lasted longer than his wife

Pushing it out over the day’s-eyes

Reaping a harvest of wet chlorophyllic comfort

On a skin rumpled by moles

A house he had owned

Only as far as the foundations

Words cannot be pushed under

They keep erupting from the dragnet

Coming up from his brain canal

The candy grabber in the penny arcade

Limply shaking a loose skinned puppet

Winning, only to lose it again.

 

Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2017

Photograph  ‘ Weald Faun’ Veronica Aldous copyright 2017

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Small Fairground

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Small Fairground

Their voices peal a gamelan of tones
Perhaps there is a paddling pool
Wriggling toe-fish in rubbery water
A too cold breeze…

I only have these little sounds to play with
A rockpool of reminders
Where each sense hunts
And stings another.

 

Veronica Aldous

All rights reserved 2017

 

Photograph Veronica Aldous. – Cistus Rock Rose

Kingsman

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Kingsman

Your hair that I hid in
A membrane of silence
Vibrating the fuzz
On a moth
O kingsman
Can I speak to you?
By all that is thin, shaded, worn
Ancient and frayed
I will search the gold air
Unwinding the thread
Until I say the wrong thing
Why do you not stop?
At the next corner
He hesitates and disappears.

Veronica Aldous 2017 all rights reserved
Photograph ‘Orb’ by Veronica Aldous

Full Fathom

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Full Fathom

I am not one of many; I am one who knew
The volutes of your labyrinth
A sliding hand on the inner skin
The wall where pain had snagged
And wrought its patterns now overlaid
With sorrow’s bark; some sores still wept
With my hand which heeded pits and scabs
And made them call, O I said
O you replied
You whispered of his scarlet sash
and I said;
Corals are living bones.

Veronica Aldous 2017 All Rights Reserved

Blue Coffee at Solstice

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Blue Coffee at Solstice

Solstice runs its tongue along the horizon
Tasting the iron and salt in the forest’s edge
Light creeps round the tower’s clock
Showing the shattered side
As well as the perfect profile.

Animals run gravely past the slatted trees
Speaking with voices they found
Under the granite pavements:
Fox  duppies and bird eidolons
Cavort and snap in deep mists
Their eyes glint with a beautiful lust.

I watch a painted screen of doubtful shoppers
Dreaming of the king’s black horse
Kicking in his  rotted trappings he rises
Whickering  steam in the frozen air
Breaking the violent earth of the hill.

Veronica Aldous 2016 all rights reserved

 

November 5th

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November 5th

The sky slings its limp tarpaulin
Over a wan summer colored arcade
Walled away from chitter-chatter
I wish I had brought a red lipstick
Instead of this widow-dark shade
Which printed a hostile fan on my cup
The cake is  gracefully uncoiling
Custard and raisins spiralling outward
Oblivious to sorrow or hardship
Pastry is better than sour old symbols
Which turn the stomach to stone
Galoshes and worms, blighted apples
And all the cold wet rubbery
Apparatus of  trying not to remember

How it turns on a point
In one hapless spin.

 

Veronica Aldous 2016  all rights reserved

Original art Veronica Aldous not to be reproduced

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