Poems

Discolored past

Photo by Sue Vincent

The rocks mark the ground
between prospering weeds enriched
by the warmth of a sun surging overhead,
encircling those of us interred
on a planet whose
percussive heartbeat rocks me to sleep.

I sense the presence of wildflowers,
of ants scurrying together in the dirt,
of life — too bountiful to count or name — 
thriving in the darkness or 
at least out of sight — 
I dare not note a difference in perspective.

Photos remain after we pass on
a gentle breeze that thoughtlessly turns
blacks to sepia, discoloring too many memories
otherwise cruelly lost
in darkness 
though the sun shines tomorrow.


Phillip Knight Scott | © 2020

My first poem of the new year! Submitted to dVerse Poets Pub Open Mic Night #257

Written for:

Poems

Parachute questions

The broken ventriloquist parachuted
beyond the road, past even the living greens,
a wanderer in a straw hat
seeking life’s spark – that fire
that animates existence fully
and follows no formation.

Who paints the living? Who plants
the dead? In the end where do we go?

Asking questions with motionless lips,
he failed to hear the smoke
or any other meaning
and missing his traveling companion
returned to the road, lost after Genesis,
holding only clay.


Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019

Written for Sunday’s Whirligig #232 : clay, end, follow, painter, straw, wanderer

Poems

Fade to

The mouse crept beneath a window,
hushed footfalls ringing with regrets –
cheese (oddly placed) left untouched,
cats (strangely absent) go unseen,
cold mists (often intoxicating) left outside.

The moon acts traitor to the day,
exiling sun pillars to memories,
its cryptic desire for dark
in a world teeming with low-lying rodents
(best left unnoticed) puzzles the thoughtful.

We chose the sun (tickling our necks)
as we face another day living
in the audacious light where yesterdays
fade to
today fade
to regrets
fade
and we get another chance
another choice
between cheese or cats or cold mists
or creeping in the night
clamoring for the sun.


Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019

A few prompts on this one:
Putting My Feet in the Dirt : “sun pillars
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Get Listed! with Helen Dehner : “a
bsence” “audacious” “exile” “clamor”
Word of the Day Challenge : “traitor

Poems

The sailor

The day fades to amber.
A sailor scampers toward shore,
fearful of being lost on the billowy blanket
where warmth in wet ripples
soothes an otherwise fierce soul,
longing to be three
sails to the wind.

But pause, the sailor.
She called to him from behind,
crying calm waters whose
deep bold blue blended with the sky,
shades of blue amid specks of red
cascading beyond
his imagination.

Or maybe he merely wanted
to touch the sky
and turning upside-down,
adrift among the waves
and the clouds, stretched his sails
once again.
The night grows black.


(c) 2019 by Phillip Knight Scott

Written with the following prompts in mind:
The Word of the Day Challenge – “Lost”
The Putting My Feet in the Dirt August writing prompts : “bold and billowy”