cityscape

the great cloud-whale
wanders idly through the blue mid-winter sky
gazing at the silent city.

fading yellow school buses
cut through restless streets
and grumbling traffic lights,
plucking out fine stitches
of this vehicle embroidered city,
one by one,
like a countdown.

a curious kitten peeks quietly from behind
the tall sack of fresh green lemons, uncannily perfect,
at clamouring people: unpractised smiles,
meaningless sweet-flowing words,
clicking their tongues in the ever-flowing rhythm of
‘sweet oranges! two for ten!’ echoing faintly
over a hundred, four hundred distant voices,
and the hovering cold tinkling of polished new coins;
a sunburnt breeze breathes deeply
with the flaking, blue tarpaulin roof,
unnoticed, like innocence, painting the marketplace
in light sunlit dust.

golden-winged kites circle high in slow motion
above asphalt roads- burning, melting
into hushed murmurs of late afternoons.
paint crumbles off cemented walls
into stray winds in surrender
to oversized names and brand new
windless elevators; grey pigeons
now ventilate a dozen flights of lonely stairs;
rusted railings chuckle and sigh
when grandmotherly grumbles
about “this generation” and “back in my days”
echo down the corridors,
a sweet breeze of homely spices
and faint clinking from the curtained kitchen
spill over the oil-stained window sill.

cracks that spread like veins
along tall ancient fortress walls
that watch over their timeless city,
smoulder like charcoal in the sunset;
they cradle their dear cloud whale
and the winking evening star
each time they fall apart over the city.

the golden moon
floats into the starry mid-winter sky
gazing at the silent city…

T. E. Pyrus

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the Sculptor

then she twirled around
beneath her dizzy sunset
and forgotten moon

like torn autumn leaves
that circled golden stormwinds
spiralled home to earth;

eyes, burning like snow,
summer raindrops on her lips
quivered with new mirth,

and i carved her breathless silhouette
with paper hands into the burning sky
ere they crumbled into breathing ash;

wishing stars burn quietly tonight.

T. E. Pyrus

half a moment

I do not deserve to be remembered, don’t spare your beautiful mind for such frivolous fancies. Yet do not forget me, I do not deserve that honour; let me fade into ghost-memory until you cannot place my name, cannot hear the breathless laughter that cut through apologies like a knife cut through water, cannot taste a single word of the girl who wrote so recklessly. Only spare me half a moment, where you nearly recognize that achingly familiar space in your heart, before you shrug, and shake your head with a puzzled laugh, and acknowledge one last time my weary existence.

T. E. Pyrus

Mosaic

Moon gazes fondly at frolicking oceans,
mosaicked with pieces of our ancient sky,
Still like a painted glass globe, with a heartbeat
like thunder that echoes with secrets of storm.

Mirrors that tremble with undrowning sunsets,
with winds that ring distant of unbroken dreams,
smoulder like memory, still, unforgotten,
when crayon sketched mountains crave skewed yellow suns.

Stars love like silence in soft, hollow darkness
between newfound wonder and forgetfulness,
the Love that carves time into crystals of ever
where our flawed and broken hope ever resounds…

T. E. Pyrus

When…

darkness dissolves into sunsets,
stars fall through midnight like rain,
flickering streetlamps sleep soundly,
seconds count minutes in vain,

the wind forest’s net catches moonlight,
the sunrise soaks into the land,
oceans are mountains of dewdrops,
mountains are soft breaking sand,

clear winds break clouds into laughter,
the blushing gold autumn is shy,
all of these moons burn like snowstorms,
the wanderer, quiet, tiptoes by.

T. E. Pyrus

When shadows spill over…

When shadows spill over
the purple-flowered edges
of the sidewalk,
they trickle into the alley
right next to the
newspaper-decked playground
and the stranded fountain.
The library across the road
sprinkles secrets, unexplored,
whispers lost in faerytales
that live by sunset firelight;
then shadows climb the dusky walls
then cities twinkle into life.

T. E. Pyrus