When summer’s sky is ripe with pungent crows
in pull of henchmen’s ropes and for your whims
I paint our world in blue; your voice, a noose
around my neck, is limp — with ragdoll’s limbs
and flailing upwards, mingle hair with clouds.
My sweater’s stiff, and from my shoulderblades
the leathered wings becomes a crazy shroud
against temptations of your black crusades.
The koi we bought is floating belly-up
reflected pale, its scales are dull as steel
of dirty blades and slithered songs; my cup
is drained and empty and my heavy wheels
are sinking slowly in relentless mud.
My heart’s a cauldron of fermented blood.
Sometimes when I need some inspiration I browse for inspiration in the virtual artgallery. This surreal picture filled my head with darkness and surreal images. To balance the surrealism I injected some form and wrote a sonnet.
Linked to open plattform with toads.