tangled fluid fabrics
of sepia neon pink and orange creations
were worn by the motley crowd
beaming best wishes and good fortune to each other
exultant giddy from intoxicating incense
and untrodden wildflowers in the church
the voyeurs hid in the stillness in shadows of the portals
melancholic grouchy bowed in prayer harking back
to antedilluvian times of the plough,the sparsity of food
forced to eat coal and oxytail moron mash with a compass
because they had no spoons with no hope of begetting anything
apart from wrinkles constantly living on the edge in a cycle of misery
dreading and dreaming of meteors crashing into the earth
sad that all they do is worry.
ReplyDeleteThis is quite a gathering of words and vivid imagery. Congratulations on using all of those words...no mean feat,
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
Poor people having to live with all that worry... Really enjoyable to read..
ReplyDeleteSounds incredibly miserable… well done!
ReplyDeleteI always think it a challenge with 12 words but were there 40 there? The curious thing is that humanity has up to now been quite adept at surviving hardship. The absence of spoons being replaced by a compass point may be a challenge but hey, we can use chopsticks now so it is not all bad. I seem to remember 70 years ago a child (not me) was known to gnaw on coal so nothing seems new under the sun.
ReplyDeletePoor little bugger...just as well you got to Australia so you could eat some good tucker...meat pies and lamingtons:)
ReplyDeleteBrilliant take Rallentanda! That many words to play with is no mean task.
ReplyDeleteHank
BRAVO! Not only did you use all of the words but the scene you weave is very visual, concrete, and draws the reader in immediately. You remind me of one thing with this poem: those who find joy in the worship of their chosen god as opposed to those who don't celebrate their faith but mourn it.
ReplyDelete-Nicole