Ribs Clutching Veins (day 2332)

Love turned to ice
Torn from it’s cave
Ribs clutching veins
Cavernous thoughts
Soiled floor
No longer beating
Lay the heart
Of the North Sea Queen
Upon her nightstand
Of blackest of stones.

Alone she sat
Eyes to the heavens
An empty void
Collapsing around her
In a symphony
Of North Sea Wind
Finding hollows
Within the North Sea Castle
Reminding all lovers
To beware
Icy grips of torture
Lay upon the brow;
Deep winter’s birth.

One by one
Suitors came bundled
Inexperienced, undermanned,
Incapable of holding
Court with frost
Who all left lifeless,
Vague and soulless,
Unable to escape
That same grip
Which tore thy love
– Ribs clutching veins.

North Sea Queen V by Doreen Broers
North Sea Queen V by Doreen Broers (ig)

Tobacco Pipe Dreams (day 2141)

I carried your tobacco pipe
Like a diamond on my mind,
Two puffs and a closed grip
Ricochet all security
Through the back door:
Creak creak.

And we pass it on
As night songs
From a holy tent with a view
That lisps night skies
Through dreams of a far off land
Whispering endlessly.

But hold me, hold on
Hold the flowers
Growing here so wild
In the palm of your hand
Until it stains your closed grip
The colour of my dream.

Tobacco Pipe Dreams by Ned Tobin

Licked Bones (day 1503)

You clawed my earth with your sharpened talons,
Piercing skin and lapping this dripping blood.
I wasn’t a victim, no, I was the victor!
Not a gram spoiling as bones were licked like molasses;
Surviving and thriving. Delving.
Gripping tight, and expecting evermore.

Heart and Death (day 1040)

Today I go into beyond,
Parting heavy gates.
Closed last season.

Battling;
Clear.
Never understanding
This strong grip.

What lifted my spirits
Above swords so sharp,
To plunge back down
Into death so brown.

Here I grow
Beyond my heart.
Alert and
Lost to earth.

Bound with opal strings
I gaze into my holder.
Eyes so strong.
Until I smooth clean off
Like rolling fog,
Smothering my choice.

Gnawing (day 24)

Rooted deep within all circles of evil
Crawling on all fours for much better grip
Lurking with anticipation for a glimpse of weakness
The eye of the beholder is critically acclaimed

Soap and suds and weakness of knees
Sprinkled with the disaster of planned picnics
Try the harlequin approach; matted and mixed
Speak of the devil, sins approached epic; unheard

Socialize, civilize, advocate, demonize
Restate the obvious for clandestine passengers
Gargle the soul out from under the skies
Reign down your thunder with an eclipse and blunder

The days parade has slid away quietly
Marching bands stopped for swill; a plunder
Phallic imaginations carrying symbols
You’re young, your day will soon come

Epic & Raw (day 1)

I saunter carelessly along
Foolishly grasping breath
Ignoring grins that seem too long
Madly in love with the music above
But too, not now, it’s you

A grip; sweaty. clammy
Clearly heated but determined
There shall not be a rousing interest
Shake the leather-ed look

Grasping grains and falling straws
Do all but hold up
Falling linens

Once were draped
In epic goodness

Now below as epic rawness