Quotidian Fever

I dream of magic lines but they  elude me.
Well, sometimes.
Chapbook on acrylic tube  palette, janus-faced cave in at the crack of dawn,
crescent moonlight awnings turn to  circus of the  soul,
images that colour dullard pages  leave furrows on my hayrick haggard brow.
Backwater sonnet form leaning  towards some meadow compost rot.
Ghost written silhouettes, shatter  fragile eggs on loop pile Berber carpets,
yolk stain and pale brown chicken hash tags.
Tight rope knot escarpment found in tripod camera verse,
cliff edge heart-stop paen is just another blue-sky  canon over billed by birds of prey.
Poetic licence pointer
to a learner permit doggerel,
aspiring metre patchwork but a tapered column
lost in grey day whimper, 
Guangdong province text in lychee pink for window glaze.
Fleeting notions dangle at the sparrow hawk crossroads,
while grazing skinny red ballon formations overhead.
Mother of invention please shine your convex beam
upon this wellspring drought abandonment I swim in.
Sudden brain cell drafts a Jack-o’-lantern of disjointed phases,
stretcher bear the legless phrases that leave me
wheelchaired and infirmed in woolly states.
Timeline mainstream woofer whose lagging jacket hemline falls apart,
areole reduced branch slowly bleeds its cactus juice of inspiration.
A rush, a fever, quotidian fever,
no greater longing can us writers have.

Medal-winning third place entry in Poetry Soup contest 8th of January 2021
Medal-winning second place Poetry Soup contest 8th of February 2020


Mohamed Sarfan's picture
Dear Poeter, Your poems always teach a deep theme. You are gifting innovations as a collection of thoughts in a wonderful poetic style. The vastness of the earth has millions of pages for man to think about. The impact of an epidemic is on the present, the wound of a death is incomplete life, the technique of the aesthetics of the birth of a flower, and a white paper innovative poems that keep man thinking. There are no limits to thinking here; The thoughtless man is not human. But, My Bad luck. Some places I could not fully understand. All The Best My Dear Friend; Write More Congratulations.

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Fliss's picture
M! I like your title and intriguing start. As usual, you have a feast of images throughout the poem. I particularly like 'sparrow hawk crossroads' and 'cactus juice of inspiration'. Congrats on another medal and best of luck for the contest, from Fliss :-)

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