Morning Stillborn

morning-stillborn

The stillness had layered the ocean in oil.
The mountains were airbrushed flat stencils – trompe l’oeil.
Not a whisper; the morning now holding its tongue
Gave the dreadful impression that something was wrong.
The birdsong was silent. Not even a breeze
Moved the claws in the branches of gnarly old trees,
As though Morecambe Bay slept unaware of its fate –
Intransigent; trapped in a glass paperweight.

Advertisements

12 responses to “Morning Stillborn

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Planetary Defense Command

Defending the planet from bad science fiction

blogagaini

story telling with an iPhone

Echoes of the Past

Exploration of the Past

Juliette W Gregson Heritage Photography

Preserving the past for the future....

northumbrian : light

Random thoughts from deepest Northumberland

the hour of soft light...

How do I know what I think until I see what I say? (E.M. Forster)

merleytwister

Blogs by jojohedgehog

WordMusing

world of poetry and spokenword

Gerald's space

Welcome to my world!

Wordifull

...poetry, stories & rants.

Syncopated Eyeball

Creepy Spooky Lovely Nice

The numpty with a camera

Happily capturing moments in life.

%d bloggers like this: