A caught thought

 

Loss can be sublime

Loss can be sublime

I found this in an old notebook. Why not publish and be damned. To do otherwise would render me damn quiet!

 

In Bruges. A caught thought.

 

Scraping over porcelain

Metal notes

The prongs engulf sweet-corn

And lettuce leaves

With omelet

Despatched

To quell

That urge

 

Outside

Cold

Skin red

Taut

Old bricks and water

Sleek metalled cobble stones

People steeped in the history

They step upon

  1. Gawp

Gather and stop

Admire and share

In modern tongues

Their imaginings

 

This being Sunday

Palm Sunday

A church in a foreign land

For customs. To observe

Daffodils stilled by the cold

Firm and green, in tandem

With the trees

Witness the nuns

  1. Singing

Black robes. White cornets

And doves fly

Like reverent symbols

As foreigners feign allegiance

And sing a mime

To the locals prayers

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s