Mark Tapley Poems

Show me, old one, the fragile empty dawns
That break in bleak waves over Soul Mountain
For I seek solace in the silence of the unborn
Hidden deep inside the womb of morning
...

Painted Lady Painted Lady, your wings are soft as night
They give you a certain sheen of blue when brought into the light

Before I die I'd like to hear you sing
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Wintertime is on my brow
My soul is greyed and tainted
Today is past, when is now
The future needs to be repainted
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Black Mariah Number One
Blotting out the burnt-out sun
Cackling Fakir on the roof
Spikes and swords and tiger's tooth
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Like the tree yearns for the sky
And stretches his knotty limbs towards her
So for thee yearn I
And so toward thee do I stretch my fingers
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It is the Land of Folklore
Where dreams drift by in a dull roar
And the smell of burning petrol
...