Stacks of chimneys,
graze lurid amber
cockleshell clouds,
shrouding the day
echoing the break.
Purple wire-strung
lazy sun, setting in haze,
emblazoned on the sky.
In the wake of tram-lines
from airplane trails,
a script is written -
unfurling plot in images
lost in the river’s rage.
Trees shake as charnel smoke
flays quivering leaves,
groping for meaning
in a world bereaved,
with the last gasps of reason.
The title picture (prompt) for this poem was created by me, by splicing two creative commons images together using Photoshop. Please follow link 1 & link 2 to credit.
If you have enjoyed this poem, you can check out my homepage @raj808 for similar content. Thanks for reading 🙂 🌿
