Magnetic fields

The air holds warmth in sealed packets

and ships them to living bodies

whom linger idyllically,

overdressed in gaudy allure,

pink jasmine sprays its lusty plumes

overhead the woven flower wreath

making this crown Joyous.

The mustard yellow fields are lit.

Local poppies have all stuck their spindly necks

out tall, above the scruff and common

gullible daisies.

Petals spark fields of amber glow, 

strong in orange and

merely mocking 

the white weak sun.

There was green hope all over the hills

-After All-

Winter wouldn’t stay fixated on grey

forever. Tasted the difference between 

yellow earth and blue sky-together

And It was good, 

And it was all green

left by the sugary dew

drawn to each other

in the new Spring atmosphere. 

Painting by Granville Redmond, Coastal wildflowers (1912), in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Signal

Blue screen drama fiend

what have you become?

Turn it off or someone will,

you won't remember

but you won't remember

given enough space.

The smell doesn't count, the color couldn't care to stay

it was "This-ness" and by the feebleness of narrow hands,

grasping

Did we ever listen while thinking of something

better we could say...

This was not electric; magnetism is not magical.

Sparks happen. Predictably we promised.

Revolution and Industry-

you'll forget what these did to we.

Don't look up, what is done is done, thy will

and guilt gone!

(on Sunday)

See? Forgotten verboten. Fuzzy. Atonement.

The power we ceased to possess,

Eternally, not youth but

goes by Memory,

like calories and ergs,

also

measured by the byte.

Painting by Ilya Repin [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.