Friday, May 20, 2016

The shortest poem


Sure-footed on clinking slag slopes a boy-goat sprang,

Flew from one unsure foothold to another at speed.

Black shiny eyes wept frozen in the sharp slag or

Bled dry tears in the ochre cinders crunching underfoot.

Blue sky sunny laughter soothed to smiles the

Grimace of despair of the slip-hazard tips they teased.

A sulphurous miasma in yellow crystalline depths pulled

As it repelled the buzzing daredevil amour of youth.

Cancerous crustaceans gnarled hammer tongs at the valley

Yet failed to smother hope, for industrial insult had died.

No more Hades smoking chimneys, but a retinal glow

Replaced the old men's closing eyes with a blue blaze.

The voices were there of course, dead, they still whispered

With stone heartbeats halted mid thought finger raised to

Spin us around searching for the voice that dislodged

The keystone that sent the mirage tumbling down.

Copyright© 2016 Jim Young

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