Step Through Summer

.

Step Through Summer

.

.

            Dying for my thoughts to fade

into an amnesiac slur, not judge my

convalescent love.

            Waiting for sleep to

move to a higher

octave, away from guilt, blame and

artful blindness.

            The light that falls forever

into the gullies

of souls and skulls – comforts

but cannot heal. The wind too cannot

give like a compass burn.

            I pace the floors, longing

to surrender what I have

to the summer flowers,

remaining.

 

 

.

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

3018img182

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

First published in “Madness Muse Press LLC” May 2018

5 Poems by Allison Grayhurst

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

.

 

As Your Sky Opens

.

As Your Sky Opens

.

.

I touch your eyelids

not to keep closed

nor to help lift,

just to understand

how such secrets form.

 

The night’s creatures

rise like needles from the earth,

into the trees, into the throbbing river’s arms.

 

You have so many days ahead,

so many visions unnamed, ready to be spoken.

 

Your tears drop like swallows.

 

Your smile changes the shape of each cloud.

 

.

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

3018img182

.

.

Published in “Our Poetry Archive” June 2018

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

.

 

Working with Glory

.

Working with Glory

.

.

In the rich thick salt

of a sea,

gulls gather creating

havoc with their stammering wings.

 

A dog brushes my knees.

Small pebble shells cover my toes.

 

I walk to the pavement where

an insect crawls,

seeing purpose there as great

as any mountain climber’s weight and cause.

 

I follow a madman off the pavement

into the bush, hearing the waking

of an oncoming downpour.

 

In a raven’s beak descending

a chant echoes into the open:

 

It brings in rays of maximum heat,

sets my name

               on fire.

 

.

.

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

3018img182

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

Published in “Our Poetry Archive” June 2018

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

.

 

To Mourn the Dusk

.

To Mourn the Dusk

.

.

Measure of rain,

echoing through his

protected slumber.

 

Authenticity locked beneath

his belly, amidst swarming

bullets of base destruction.

 

Rage grinding, titling his

equilibrium, shrinking

an ivory sun.

 

People play with him, give response

to his repeating voice, won’t abort

his fatal ebb and flow.

 

He sits with arrows under his seat,

trusts nothing but the iron isolation

of betrayal.

 

Will not speak to children or enjoy

a paint-by-number. Loves only

chewed wounds, impossible needs,

 

the drowned swimmer

of

his mind.

 

.

.

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

3018img182

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

Published in “Our Poetry Archive” June 2018

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

.

 

Hawk

.

Hawk

.

.

Paradise bound

by doubt’s heavy claw.

 

Our promises were

fracturing. The hour

melted into sleep

then confusion.

 

In the bed where our stones

were gathered like oracles

of deliverance came the touch

of communion, your hands

crossing my boundary flesh.

 

Splitting the atmosphere,

and your eyes, feverish with love’s

great skill.

 

You circled me,

sliding down

through the stronghold space

between, entered

and gave what in tomorrow

I may never find.

 

.

.

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

3018img182

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

Published in “Our Poetry Archive” June 2018

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

 

 

The Leap

.

The Leap

.

.

            His body

has fallen

onto the pyramid’s point.

            Pyramid

of passion’s climb, edge of

water of sunstroke-sea.

            Thunder

in his bones, contagious,

moves through his nails and

            hairstrands.

Has one dedication – to seek

and scream. Has no

            mother

no rite of passage to

soak him in strength.

            Thunder

of hard fought-for joy.

He tosses and turns at

            the tip,

on his heels.

He lies flat, feet and arms

            spread

like some great animal,

fossilized, once

in flight.

 

.

.

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

3018img182

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

Published in “Our Poetry Archive” June 2018

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

.

Tearing Roots

.

Tearing Roots

.

.

Guilt that shatters

the skull of megalomaniacs.

 

Guilt that motivates early morning

extremes, pacts and dubious proposals.

 

He was paralyzed in the playground,

taking years to say a single

            no – A childhood

filled furies and thieves.

A child that carried sharpened pencils

in his pockets.

 

A child in bed, in a lucid dream

of horrid hands rising from the floor,

tugging his dangling foot, pulling

his hair and leaching

his pores of their juice.

 

Now he rides beyond the blasphemy

of his youth, beyond his

innocence murdered by a careless

tyrant’s siege.

 

Out of his husk, his form

swims, pursuing a small but majestic

harbour

glow.

 

.

.

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

3018img182

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

Published in “New Mystics” May 2018

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

.