JEMMIA DE BLONDEVILLE

Smoking smouldering chimneys

Like old steam engines

Seemingly chugging along

Through the windswept, and whistling

Squally, stormy skies

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Is it the trees brushing the clouds?

Or have the houses

Uprooted from their foundations

As they glide along

Aided by the sweeping wind

As a stream of smoke

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Billows behind

No choo choo

Just the howling gusts

Like ghosts

Of the dying wolf moon

The steam engine’d houses

Are soon stationary

As the wind dies down

The smoke from the chimneys

Now swirls upwards

Blending

With the grey puffball

Shrouded clouds

The houses

Their facades

Like glowing faces

Widowed windows

Mellowed, yellowed eyes

Light up

As the mouth like door

Closes out the night

Like a secret kiss


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https://www.hastingsindependentpress.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/literature.jpghttps://www.hastingsindependentpress.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/literature.jpgHIPLiteraturePoetryJEMMIA DE BLONDEVILLEJEMMIA DE BLONDEVILLE Smoking smouldering chimneys Like old steam engines Seemingly chugging along Through the windswept, and whistling Squally, stormy skies Is it the trees brushing the clouds? Or have the houses Uprooted from their foundations As they glide along Aided by the sweeping wind As a stream of smoke Billows behind No choo choo Just the howling gusts Like ghosts Of the dying wolf...The Hastings & St Leonards non-profit community newspaper