A New Destiny

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Like a love I cannot speak,

this feeling coils around as a whip,

scorching my skin with its disease.

Break now, like the tense are broken

by gentleness

or the weak are consumed by

merciless rage, raging in waters

terrorizing and sleepless.

Proud of the years spent feasting

on turmoil and prophetic visions. Proud

to savour the call of despair, to have kissed that

face that drove the dream into the heavens.

Inertia. On my back, the rolling passions of

frustration and labour, the illness of mourning

and re-mourning the mortal end. Sing like an animal

that feels her offspring warm against her limbs.

Sing for the chance to tremble with surrender,

and live like this – a body

sown in time.

.

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Bursting Plethora of Rainbow Colors”, 2012

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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Spring Too

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In this year when lovers lay

fossilized in engulfing anger

when only the born-rich thrive in the noonday air,

is the same year of leavened kindness,

when parents scatter the goods from their pockets

to teach the lesson of surrender.

The mountain is rejoicing as it merges

with the rising flood. The cornfields

are trembling with fire like a beacon in

miles of darkness. Heaven is a tale that never ends,

is a lifelong pilgrimage, is the tongue

of a fattened snake.

Spinning, the sun, the quenching breeze.

Spinning, the crow on the chapel tower

and the woman digging in her yard.

It is nice to feel sand between fingers,

to kiss the cheeks of a loving child.

Home is an autographed prize,

is starlight swirling like a kaleidoscope

in the folds of my mouth.

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Mount Parable Poetry Forum” November 2015

http://mountparable.blogspot.ca/2015/11/spring-too-poem-by-allison-grayhurst.html

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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The Ride

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Again the stars were plucked

from her mind and the world below

leapt up and sponged her with its flame.

That summer she made a wish upon her chains

and walked the deserted farmyards.

The ravens followed her through the weeds

and heat, keeping up conversation. At night

she sang to the beating of the rain and stroked the head

of the dead bug in her pocket.

She was neither of the mountains nor of the desert.

She was calm as crazy sometimes gets, and the thunder

hissed out her name as the June’s morning rays

danced her a sermon. She talked

to her shadow when the birds had gone,

and her fingernails were brittle as cracked ice.

On the seventeenth day her breath collapsed with

the rising sun as the cobwebs about her sparkled, stirred

by a sweetened wind.

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Full of Crow” 2013

http://www.fullofcrow.com/poetry/archives/allison-grayhurst-july-2013/

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18285940-full-of-crow-poetry—july-2013

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Published in “Peedeel’s Blog” April 2016

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Published in “Creative Talents Unleashed” November 2017

https://creativetalentsunleashed.com/2017/11/03/the-ride-author-allison-grayhurst/

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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