Bubbles

Bubbles floating in the air, young eyes stand and stare. rainbows popping in the air. Smokey bubbles burst with a puff wispy white against the backdrop of night.

Bubbles floating at every height, children running jumping with all their might. Little faces full of glee playing with bubbles until its time for tea.

Linking bubbles making new shapes, over the ground they make their escape. Then comes the biggest bubble of all, gently blown until it falls, still that pack of bubbles entertains and enthrals.

© All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2018

Obscured Light

The bright sun gives way slowly, to a dark grey creeping moon, darkness will be here soon. Rays of light flicker from the ever-advancing moon, changing the shape of the sun, as coldness descends, on a summers day, when the moon and sun are both out to play.

The moon blackens as it continues its journey across the face of the sun, obscuring light as though night time has sprung. Crowds form on sun drenched mounds, waiting for the moon to complete its rounds. Dark glasses and pinhole cameras to stop optic burn, as mums and dads and children watch this spectacle, of which, in school they learned. 

A full on Solar Eclipse, sun forming shapes of ellipse, until, all that is left is the cold and dark, with the hue of the odd sun beam raising a spark. Then, from the dark, the sun starts to emerge from the edge of the moon, right on the verge, shimmering heat rays as the day starts to burst into colour, slowly heating the ground as the sun slides around. No sudden burst of celestial light, just slow evaporation of the night, until day is restored in full sunlight.

© All Rights Reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

Heatwave

Cool breeze ruffles the tops of the trees swaying leaves with ease, cooling breath on my naked top chilling my sweat from my slumber so hot. Heat mist hanging above the ground hazing everything around, promising heat and sun to come, warming up as the day runs. Sun reflects off Chrome and glass overhead the hot orb passes, subdued light through sunglasses.

Radiant heat beats down from the sky Polaroids coving the eyes. Sweating body burning red, wet hair from the heat on your head, heatwave like a day in the med. Water bottled, ice cold touch, gulped down in desperation, never enough.

Finding shade to pause and rest, wringing the wet out of my vest, wispy chill upon my chest. Shadow moves with the progress of the day, finding another cool spot to stay, Oasis from the rays of the day, dappled shade of mottled facade where flickering sun comes to play. After the high pressure at the middle of the day, intense heat starts to fade away, red fiery sun setting on the edge of sight explosion of orange leads into the night. Leaving a dull glow waiting for the moon to show, warmth remains in small vanes, evening chill permeates window panes.

 

Celestial Strobe

Full moon against the black sky nature telling us lies, no wolves cry, just a bright moon against Black sky. Rippling shadows across the orb, light in the clouds to absorb, celestial strobe, large lobe glows in the night. Visions of light and sensory masters, fragile moon hanging so bright without the hindrance of street lights.

Orb of wonder shining in sun’s slumber, black velvet backdrop, secrets not unlocked. Cratered moon come visit again soon, shine your light on the canvas of night until you sleep in broad daylight, crouching down out of sight turning out your precious light.

Oh, precious moon have you taken flight, now you hang out of sight, will you be back to beam your light. Will you come to cast shadows of night, running across the sky showing your nocturnal flight. Light up the dark glow like a spark to eat through the black on your long night hack.

Stars a twinkle in your mighty presence, specks of light candle bright, floating at death defying height. Through the cloud and thick night sky, their lights with yours they vie, like the sky is starting to cry, daring us to see what we can spy, picture framed by the night sky.

© All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

Published in the  first edition of Hidden Constellation August 2017

 

 

 

Senses #3

Touching your body with all its curves, soft gentle skin to match your linen.
Touching the soft cotton of your dress my finger and thumb your hemline caress.
Touching the silk of your sheets, nicely laid with little pleats.

Touching your hand, I feel so grand, soft and warm a beautiful form.
Touching your cheek, soft as you speak.
Touching your face, a warm embrace,it feels like lace.
Touching your lips,your eyelids dip,as I use my mouth to take a sip.
Touching your soul, you as a whole, I’m slowly losing control.

Playground

Black safety surfaces highlight the bright colours of the playground with children all around, they climb and run and jump, on metal frames and trains. they imagine they are climbing a mountain to rescue fair maids and gallop away.

Driving a train passenger laden picking up knights and maidens. A large swing hangs like a disc, carries several children on the journey they wish. Slides and roundabouts all to wear the kids out. then comes the ice cream, it cools them down in the mid-day heat, a real treat, strawberry sauce real sweet. Back to their play and imagination all day, dancing and singing and rocking in the sun’s rays. Play in a group or just on their own, there is plenty to do until it’s time to go home.

 

Balloon Flight

Bright coloured silk laid out on the ground basket tethered all around, the size of it astounds. The fan fires up to open the envelope, opening it up like a periscope. Air shivers down the silk rippling waves in coloured silk. Then comes the roar and hiss of the flame, heating the air from the burner mounted on a frame, sometimes fierce and sometimes tame. The heat from the air makes the silk flare and people stare as the balloon takes shape.

Struggling to stand and reach for the sky the canopy comes back to lie, as the pilot gives it another try. The balloon is soon erected, it drops its tethers and heads for the sky. Waving at crowds as the balloon heads for the clouds. The people below look in awe, as the balloon starts to saw. Up in the sky the current takes it high, until it is difficult to spy.

Gliding over towns and parks up high with swifts and larks, firing the burner to keep it high, now just a dot in the sky. Out over feels of cows and sheep, boats on water not so deep. Wind is dying it starts its descent, to land in a space without a dent. Slowly sinking down to earth along a field, we start to surf, down with a bump, and a scrape and a drag, it will soon be time to put it back in the bag.

The balloon comes to rest in a local field, gas turned off to bring it to heal. Then comes the trailer and ground crew, where it would land they never knew. They start to work folding the silk, all the air extracted up to the hilt, rolling it into a ball, into the bag it’s heavy to hall. Onto the trailer it takes them all, packing it tight basket and all. Then into the cab the crew all file, ready to return this valuable pile that makes people smile making it all worth while.