Tuesday Poem: "The Gift" by Andrew M. Bell

for Thomas and Ryan

When we are cosmic dust

blowing through the universe

and memories of us fade

like colours in a Polaroid

you can pick up your guitar and know

your parents gave you a gift

no one could take away

by Andrew M. Bell

For more information about the poet, Andrew M. Bell, see:

http://ambell4.wixsite.com/andrew-m-bell-author/bio

POET'S NOTE: The poet would like to acknowledge The Press, Christchurch, in whose pages this poem first appeared.

Tuesday Poem: "Ghost Town" - a video poem

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5ZQ9bkVC80

Picture Clint’s flinty-eyed stare

as he squints into the harsh sun

down an abandoned street.

Ears attuned for the chink-clink of the villain’s spurs

hear only the eerie moan of the nor’wester.

Silt swirling in small twisters is

flung like an insult into Clint’s eyes,

the grey, turgid liquid that spewed forth

now desiccated by the unforgiving Canterbury sun.

Cue tumbleweeds,

but the sole arrival is a family carload

seeking the solace of the state-sanctioned sea.

Dad winces as he drives through Dodge City,

and his suspension surrenders to another pothole.

Dusty venetian blinds are

closed like the eyes of the dead,

the blanched grass clutches at the windows,

and weeds suffocate once proud gardens,

fissures scar the lawn

with the earth’s vengeance.

Clint springs like a cougar at

a shadow in his peripheral vision,

but the villain is already out of range,

running carelessly towards a life full of promise.