Friday, February 12, 2010

Amber

This misbegotten spoke of
rueful light, having been
kicked from his unclean-too
sheltering by the bully-
bruised sky, exhausts himself
repeating ungallant falls
into winter-wronging crowds.

Thick disapproval oozes
out an aural complaint
punctuated with amber
clots, ensnaring the flippant
and the shifty but to fix
their toady meanings inside
polished globules of today.

4 comments:

The Scrybe said...

I really like this, it cannot be read without passion. And the last verse folds onto itself wonderfully.

Jenny Enochsson said...

Many exciting images, like:

"the bully-
bruised sky"

and

"punctuated with amber
clots, ensnaring the flippant"

Beautiful with an edge.

Ande said...

"rueful light, having been
kicked from his unclean-too"

I love the attitude and edge of the poem and the feeling I got of an opaque structure around a nucleus which slowly winds up to the reader.

Megan Duffy said...

Very nice, Francis. There is a real feeling of entrapment in this. These lines make me think of those little Victorian amber necklaces that encase petrified insects"

"an aural complaint
punctuated with amber
clots, ensnaring the flippant
and the shifty"

Wonderful.