Thursday 28 December 2017

COLD TURKEY

COLD TURKEY


Grey clouds flow from Northern sky

with double-edged Puritan intent

Flexing sharp scythes to sweep

southern slopes on Shannon drowned pastures

A dismal day’s dark display of religion

The twenty-fifth of the twelfth month

Gone now and far away.

As dead as slaughtered birds

beneath a butchers knife,

A cold turkey.


©MRL 2017

8 comments:

  1. Áine Mc said:
    Dear Mel,
    The spirits of the turkeys �� say thank you to you.
    A XX

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  2. It needed to be said... and thank you Rachel.

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  3. A powerful poem - conjures up such images! Love it.

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    1. Thanks very much for your comment, for which I am exceedingly grateful !

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  4. Poor turkeys. Cold indeed. Strong images, Mel! Sad too.

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    1. Thank you Val.
      The images can be translated in other ways or that is what I intended the reader to do and always when reading poetry to look beyond, to find a greater depth.

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