Array ( [sid] => 149585 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => At Late Night Profuse Grenades [time] => 2009-05-02 10:31:46 [hometext] => [bodytext] => When he was want to be a fly
On the blasting, confected lights,
Furtive in these fluorescent beams
Of manmade splendor,

He was limping limpid, privy
To awe--a deft coward
Of sorts, caked in the opaque light,
Throes unknown to even

Comrades in the locker room.
At the grocery store where the women mill,
Query unnoticed in the bustle
Of dust bowl and cake batter,

The grocery bags exorcised
Their crinkling noise, the only
Sheepish, screeching things to lout to hands
Of dust haul and cake batter.

Gingerly at the florist’s, a
Famished gargoyle! among the grayish tresses
Of plants--who sanction their ailments
Into plausible dead heads--

The pots released their finite spurts
Of fragrance. And the pot lights shrank
To see the blossoms hurl
At late night profuse grenades.

[comments] => 0 [counter] => 146 [topic] => 73 [informant] => screwge [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract ) Your Poetry Dot Com - At Late Night Profuse Grenades


At Late Night Profuse Grenades
Date: Saturday, 2nd May 2009 @ 10:31:46 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: screwge
When he was want to be a fly
On the blasting, confected lights,
Furtive in these fluorescent beams
Of manmade splendor,

He was limping limpid, privy
To awe--a deft coward
Of sorts, caked in the opaque light,
Throes unknown to even

Comrades in the locker room.
At the grocery store where the women mill,
Query unnoticed in the bustle
Of dust bowl and cake batter,

The grocery bags exorcised
Their crinkling noise, the only
Sheepish, screeching things to lout to hands
Of dust haul and cake batter.

Gingerly at the florist’s, a
Famished gargoyle! among the grayish tresses
Of plants--who sanction their ailments
Into plausible dead heads--

The pots released their finite spurts
Of fragrance. And the pot lights shrank
To see the blossoms hurl
At late night profuse grenades.



This poem is Copyright © screwge


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