Sound the gong

Plausible
Plot twists down slinky pole
Like ivy gone wild
Parched dry stone wall

Tips stretch limbs
A divining stick
Precious lick of droplet
Curtain falls

Cool shower soothes
Sting of unseasonal
Summer burst
How to say, thirsty, is all

Ivy, though clinging,  choking kind
Something renaissance about it
Ivy league, why?

Look down from chest to feet
All that hides between
Not so incongruous are we?
Tower bell strikes harmoniously

Synonym of ceremony
Meringue gown falls
Layers of royal icing kind
Not my style anymore

Since dawn erupted
Relentlessly upon eyelids
Call to arms silenced
Love does a number on us all

Down to only one
Sound the gong

Rubble

I barely remember the wall coming down
Though tender renowned
Perestroika and glasnost
My Minsk pen pal
Whom I nearly visited
If not for that iron curtain
A downed air plane
VHS player was their request
For duty free on the plane
From a 10 year old
Broken wall boundaries
Parenting –
Though missed a trip
To America
With my swim club
Too young, they guffawed
Knotts Berry Farm
Apparently more dangerous than
Newly formed USSR.

Timestamped

Wholly unbroken
The line between the time
You told me all your stories
To now
I write them out
Though not mine to tell
Story keeper, holding closely
Treasuring artwork on cigarette packets
In New Orleans
Erecting tents on byways of Canada
Evading bears
A sense of place is important
Venturing out beyond all civilisation
Loved ones' names in acknowledgements
On all the field papers
I fade and fall rather than reach for such stardom
The earth and all its impact
Wakes me from timestamped memories
With beers in gaudy bars
Canadian moosehead overlooking
That look, watching waiting, startled -
Only to flee into the wilderness again
Artwork from cigarette rolling papers, c1898

Wishes on the wind

Blustery spring
Rattles my windows
Within
Batten down the lids
Promises of snow drift
Footprints on photos
Places I never go
Lift my mood somewhat
All I know
Is to write my heart out
Send wishes on the wind
That is all I can do
When the wind
Whips through me
Clifftop overlooking Mickey’s Beach, Tasmania