Landscape, day 13

Landscape.

Sunshafts broke cover to spotlight

water, silvery as an old coin

framed in my car window. I’d seen it,

let the fragment slip, loose change,

worth far more than the rainbow’s end

now I come to reflect.

It needed a stop, a look beyond the mist,

to hear the engine crack, not running

towards the dreamtime future

or back where I’d come from.

These were distractions.

Hunger, dissatisfactions.

Now the pool’s long gone, I’d driven on

a somnambulist, unaware of loss.

Day 13, Lara

Untitled

She wears a lavender dress

with flower print purple tights and patent leather boots.

Walks down the high street – between tourists,

shoppers, stag party drinkers.

Her hand, like an offering, cupped in front of her –

holding a dove tan mouse above the urban sprawl.    

Day 13, Ashley

She walks in beauty like the night

and floats on high o'er dale and hill

and all that's best of dark and bright

make her a ninja poised to kill.

Day 12, Ashley

Thursday the 12th

by Ashley Lister

(a first draft)

I don't believe bad luck can come from spilling table salt.

There's no bad karma found beneath a ladder.

The only spirits I have ever known are single malt.

This superstitious sh*t could not be sadder.

I place no faith in broken mirrors

or crossed paths from a black cat

I don't believe in lucky heather

because I'm not a tw*t.

I don't believe there's truth in dreams

whether I'm asleep or I'm awake.

And now I'm off to spend tomorrow on

Camp Crystal Lake.

Ashley Lister