Coping Mechanisms

[R. Broath]

Moon washes finch-heavy gorse
rustling with lamping raiders
yards from my gasping cell.
I cry for water-
thirsting for company
just to say
-You will not die.
Not die a lung-burst
god-cursed, breathless death
before the two-tone pink pills work.

Delinquent sleep creeps on;
a shadow version of itself
escorts me into back fields, big braes,
loneys, lanes and swaying hedges.
I live again in fantastic flight
tar-melt sun days,
knee bleed scab days,
whin prick skin days.

With serene breath I sail
over seething night
above oblivious streets
shining in blue light.
There's burnished apples
that 'll spoil if left unstolen
in spite of sentry
hidden atop glass spiked wall.
In luscious ivy,
in fragrant orchards,
he waits to bushwack me.

Up the bouldered hill where lovers go,
hear half meant giggling No,
slow grunts of satisfaction.
Wet Woodbine in the afterglow
stains the breath of love.

Abroad, with perfect lungs
across the known world.
Goats repose on chairs,
comb caprine beards. Long
faces contemplate the lusty night.

I drift on
through purple clouds
over black back lanes.
Old people in old houses
cry in their sleep to be
highflown as me.

Lowing cattle chide the moon
silvering night-shuttered shops.
It lights perpetual night
in the cluttered cemetery.

Landfall, dream drunk,
I tremble in my captive bed
dreading the eternal,
wakeful hour before saviour sun
mops fearsome shadows.

I'll be alright.
I'll sail in splendid air again,
tonight.

[Ros]

I thought this was a wonderful flight into dreamland, Jimmy. I do hope it's not too autobiographical. The first verse sets the scene very powerfully, and I liked all the rest of the imagery. The verse I thought worked a bit less well is this one:

With serene breath I sail
over seething night
above oblivious streets
shining in blue light. - this sentence feels a bit clumsy
There's burnished apples
that 'll spoil if left unstolen
in spite of sentry
hidden atop glass spiked wall. - found it hard to envision a sentry sitting on a spiked wall, guarding apples
In luscious ivy,
in fragrant orchards,
he waits to bushwack me.

Didn't feel as strong as the rest, and the rest is very strong. A good write.

[R. Broath]

Thanks Ros. I originally intended to give the 'sentry' a name but thought it would be too much information. I think you're right, too, about the 'oblivious streets' sentence; on rereading it sounds as though the 'I' is shining in blue light - careless!

Its biographical content is accurate; pretty severe asthma as a boy and thought each night (they were the worst) that I was about to breathe my last. Semi-dreams, imagination I suppose, calmed the panic and allowed some respite.

Good of you to reply to this and I will post a version minus the abovementioned streets.

Jimmy

[David]

Very atmospheric bit of night-walking (or flying) here, Jimmy. I'm not sure what a loney is. Whin I know, although I can never remember if it's gorse of heather. It's gorse?

I love the goats reposing on chairs, although - seeing as they are goats - I don't think caprine adds a lot to the beard.

An absorbing read, for a' that.

Cheers

David

[R. Broath]

Hi David. Yes, caprine is there just for alliteration and a 'loney' is just one of those little grass-spined lanes which always seem so inviting to children; a sort of verdant pathway to adventure.

Thanks for the read.

Jimmy