Ken's Poetry

Out Of This World

Growling water curtain
arching the weir
birds rattling cold air
screaming children
traffic sound,
I hear them if I choose.

White dabs of light
on ruffled river
willow lanterns
draped in yellow-green
curve of lock gate beam
bicycle wheels
trainered feet
and dogs
passing.

Networks of nerves
flash senses to the brain,
sparks from the eye
explosions from the ear
cut grass and river scent
taste of cold tea
all sizzle
down the nerveways.

Now
I am in a world beyond you
where neurons and synapses
crackle
and create:
lands you cannot walk in
colours you cannot see
music you cannot hear
flowers you cannot smell
food you will never taste …
I am beyond your dreaming
drifting
out of this world.