Presently, I feel both stretched and confronted by the imagery of the Cotswold (UK) and Quebec (Canada).
To me both are cool, frozen and pristine. It makes me want to ask these questions: -
What have you captured and nested to freeze in your mind or your life?
What is innocent and pristine within you?
Are you taking care of what you value?
Please join me in my way across this landscape through my poem Moor’s Cove.
Please feel free to leave any comments you would like to share.
Moving slowly through the dour moor,
colourless lulls of oscillating mists surround.
A rampage firing smoothly though my jelly knees,
strengthening me, just as the dreamy star-kissed night sky does.
My heart weeps a disunite,
as I plod in earnest this dynamic cove.
It seems every person I meet,
skirts what’s real, leaving hearts down turned.
No longer can we uphold gluttony
even though sensualism is a love.
As extreme sensualism,
circles a heinous crime.
Films about grandiose ways to be,
makes us howl for more.
Just nestle within the estuary,
letting the cove sirens sing and defend your innocence.
Melodious whims signal a fragrance,
to jump start a move away from the dirty wood log.
Rest, rescue and repair.
Hold tight onto the opaque nests of what is right.
We both can be plural and incomplete,
seeking pillows of softness,
to arrive and navigate a temporal route,
that is perpetually moving and limited.
All I see now are identical moss-covered hills,
quietly beckoning me to climb.
I find I am unwilling to voice a high,
instead let me touch thee green velvet that spurs on my thigh.
Moor's Cove leaves me feeling
© 2018 Threekeys