a literary magazine.
Two Poems...
The march of the martoui.
Each spring
you tear
your candy
floss nest
and pour
like burnt
sugar strands
from a
boiling pan
drip
drip
a brown trail
armed with
orange hairs
poisoned harpoons
you hurl
on the breeze
deadly to
curious dogs
you are
- it’s said -
an ill omen
marching
nosetotail
no carnival
more soldiers
invading or
funeral cortege
and while
green sprouts
to sunlight
you tunnel
underground
to darkness
burrow deep
until the day
when you
emerge
spectral.
Tempestas
The sea is swollen
straining against its horizons
an over ripe fruit
ready to burst
rumbling thunder
warns of the coming battle
then hours of pelting rain
hurling itself from the sky and
pummelling fists against the ground
pausing as if for breath
only to resume, harder, stronger
fuelled by a greedy wind,
guzzling trees and fences
like a petulant child
wailing on and on
finally a huge thunderclap
vivid crackle of lightning
illuminating everything
and at last the tempest ends.
An expected storm
but still unnamed
Bio:. Annie lives by the sea in Cyprus with her husband and two rescue dogs. She has poems forthcoming in a number of places including Re -side, Gastropoda, Boats against the Current… @AnnieCowell3.