4*26
Monsters lurking near
Feasting upon fear.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Your sweat soaked shirt
Clings to your back
A chill, wet leach
Sucking the heat from you
In the cold spring morning air
You pick up your tools
And get back at it
Because work is warmth.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Our parting was a knife cut
Quick, sharp, clean
Nearly bloodless
At the instant painless
All of that came later
Like a slap across the face
Its aftershock
A welcome
Numb.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Ground fog slips around
The trunks of hickories and oaks
Pines gnarled with time
An owls bass hoot
Drums up through
Your belly
As you ascend the rock strewn crest
These hills are worn down
With age
But not brittle, not fragile
They possess a low slung strength
Resilient
In their ubiquitous power.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Its a long, dry walk
Across shifting sands
Thirsty and tired
Of all the dust and grit
Its in your boots
Your socks
Your shirt and pants
Your underwear
In your hair and up your nose
You feel it in your ear canals
Across your lips
A grungy mask you can never wash away
Like the crackling shouts
Of the Muezzin
Over the loudspeakers
Full of sand
And dust muted colors of the tattered clothes
That haunt your speckled dreams.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
The orange garbage truck
Squeals, hisses and beeps
Its stink alone
Obviously not enough
To announce its
Garish arrival.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Spirits shifting places
Books gathering dust
Clinging to curios
Arranged in methodic
Mystic order
Peel back the grin
Shed the familiar
Skin
Beneath it all
We are the same
The differences
Marvels and shame.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
4-18
Salient soldiers seeking
Fierce Fomorian foes.
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Slow down the years
A tired town lingers
Hanging on by just
A thread
Unravelled from a well worn
Coat that clings
To cardboard cut out
Scarecrow shoulders.
Broken apple crates
Lean in drunken stacks
And the green sea of suckers
Rises up in its hungry overgrowth
to swallow idle tractors
And broke wheeled wagons
By the hundreds.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
The pools are temporary
Full for a time
Drying up now, receding
They leave their stain
Upon the flattened leaves
Like symbols
The likenesses of Gods
Nearly forgotten
Ghosting the niches
In human consciousness
Trailing shared memories
Across the timeless skies
Watching, waiting
For their inevitable filling
To begin again.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing