The November Second Selected Poet is
Sue Taylor
Please feel free to email Sue at: markandsuetaylor@gmail.com
TAKING FLIGHT
I notice you’re not here today
The cage was locked but you’ve flown away
Scaling the height of the tallest of trees
You swoop and you swerve as you look down on me
You soar higher and brighter than any I’ve seen
A bird’s eye view of what could have been
A dot on the landscape too tiny to see
The speck on the horizon cries ‘This is me. This is me.’
The wind beats so strong terror staring into my face
The sea gulls are mocking circling my space
The lonely squall cries as the black blanket skies
Pelt down weighty stones crushing my bones
I cling and I claw as the sea hits the wall
My grasp cannot hold I am fragile not bold
BLACK ROSE
A black rose is a velvet loaded machine
Geared up by a spikey enclave which screams
Do not enter and leave me be
I’m not the innocent beauty you think you can see
I look sleek and elegant shiny and bright
And I exist to haunt you in the darkness of night
I will escort Ophelia down the river of doom
And laugh as I wither in the heat of the room
Claw sharp and screechy as I preen like a cat
In my arrogant pose in my black shiny top hat
Only the water that carries my breath
Can dwindle and kill me in its stillness and rest
A black rose is a velvet loaded machine
Arch enemy would be vermillion blood red obscene
A war of the roses explodes in a jar
The vase in a battlefield many casualties so far
So lead me away to await my fate
I’m lead to my maker and I wait at the gate
No elegant departure as my head is pushed in
I cannot escape the recycling bin
THE UNDEAD UNSEEN
Rolling green hills reflect ghostly dead chill
Cows put out to pasture how her path was so real
A beautiful woman dressed in serene velvet black
Placed amongst the tombstones her soul searches back
Remembering the joys that her life once gave
As she raises above the neat and clinical grave
The path of flowers chained straight to her heart
From her white alabaster skin he would never part
From a countryside clock the chimes stike anew
The stunning undead shrouded in sky tinted blue
The wind gently breezes unsettling the ground
The undead silence resplendent in sound
The path takes a turn into terror and fright
The flowers dripping blood red tearing into the night
A glass coffin of love is stirring below
Stewn with dead roses they disentangle and grow
Dead lover mocking reclaiming her space
Pain etched ever deeper creeping into her face
The flowers take flight from their last resting place
Searching for a path that will sparkle with grace
THE ZOMBIE BRIDE
The bride didn’t exactly waltz down the aisle to her intended doom
Almost hidden by a bouquet of black tulips her trailing choice of bloom
I would say that she glided down that aisle in a sonambulistic state
A time bomb ticks as the church bell shrills ‘It’s ok to be late’
Garter of barbed blue wire and a horseshoe splitting borrowed blood
An old tombstone inscription somewhere declares there was once love
But this is the new day the new dawn we should all want to see more
From the day of the announcement and fridge magnet on the door
Put the date in your diary do not miss the posed photos by the lake
And lets look on as the dagger cuts down the creamy cupcake cake
The best man looking quite sinister in bold red tie and flower
The pocket watch and waistcoat look getting creepier by the hour
There’s always a toad look alike who is just placed amongst the rot
The wheeled out family odd bod who really should be shot
The bridesmaid hovers with intent in her stilettoed silver shoe
On the gift list was a pickaxe and the bride knew what to do
She’ll place his ruby tie in the toaster and take an ice tong to his eye
Toss her decaying flowers in the air and hurl them towards the sky
Watch them land into a hand as thin and withered as an autumn twig
The net comes down and traps them in and the ground begins to give
Where once they would be the silence of pink confetti in the air
The ravens descend upon the bride to offer her wild tangled hair
They claw and scratch and screech to find a bleeding heart inside
Blood red rose petal ink the choice for the new look June bride
Sue Taylor wrote her first poem at the age of ten and after quite a long gap decided to start writing again. She contributes to the Dark Lane Quarterly and also writes comedic poetry and poems about quirky or unusual events. She has one young son and is married and lives in Long Ashton, North Somerset.