Andy Brookes Poems

Hexameters, hexed metres, metered matter menaced.
Lunch was strained affair like kids food pureed and bland,
we talked of this and that while the elephant in the room
ran riot royally.
...

Gnawing rat on ladder, jumping frog diversions
left hooked, right not southpaw
priest devotions, crucifix bent,
knees bruised on penitent flags
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I'm not to old for love.
for dancing romancing, for sex.

I'm not too old for flowers
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Chromatic crescendos
dissonant choirs sing
whispering abyssal kelp gardens
deep, unseen, atonal.
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casting about, out of my depth seeing you from the cast of millions,
that myriad of stars, did we see it in our stars, we star crossed lovers
as we crossed the room?
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war's destinies bitter truth, barbed biter, realities bitter gall, it galls us in its pitiless pithy reality.

questioning whatever reality is, war is not atransparent entity made of crystal
to shatter glass like, disintegrating at atrumpet blast.
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