Short Eagled Poems

 UNSUPPORTED CODE NIGHT MOVES

wrapped in a shroud
pread-eagled man
lies… dreamless
in the unmade 
grave of his bed
beams glare on his
mooning face
as his hands clench
on the nights long
throat

©Kim van Breda—August 2015...

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In fevered mornings, the salted sky
has halfway birthed her fiery sun.
All day the houses will guard the sea
with totems of windsocks and briny shells: 
a foamy shoreline where bones of 
dreams and shards of thoughts
are laid to rest, reclaiming the child
you were, spread-eagled, creature 
to God, God to creature....

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The sun's flames lick my back and burn the outer crust; warm my hidden bones.

I see the orange glow behind closed eyes, as the rays fall across my face and 
dance up and down my body.

I want to lie naked, and spread eagled, so it can trickle between my legs and brown me inside and out.

The sun is my lover, his passions burn like fire....

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The Wagtails gathered before sunset,
Dancing their olive steps
Around treetops,
And chatting like teenagers
At an auditorium.
 
The sky, dreaming
Of dusk at its sapphire edge
Played with the palm trees
That spread-eagled
Lazily In shadows, 

Whilst I followed a
Sandy road
Towards the sea,
Amongst the swirling dust
Of a saffron breeze;

A silent contemplation
Over ruby red wine
And arterial bursts
Of magnificent memories....

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half his age
and nearly twice his
height
pretty as a picture
but none too bright
 
he loves her open
arms (and legs) –
his “tart”
spread-eagled on his
sports-car’s bonnet
 
she likes him for
his open mind and
open heart
but most of all –
his open wallet
 
she intends to stick
with him through
thick and thicker
and is most
“concerned” about
his dodgy ticker



you can see my
illustration &
original poem on my
blog here -

http://tap-p.com/2014/08/22/gold-digger/...

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