The Bellowing Arbour – Jonathan O’Farrell

How much power do you need,
to take from us?
Have we not heard already years,
half asleep, just awake, degraded humanity,
to hear?
Enough perhaps,
to hear the obvious,
our arms swirling.
Perhaps a groaning,
in another over-energetic cyclone.
Be neither comforted
nor distracted,
by thoughts of summer,
just elapsed.
For purring black felines
on your lap,
nor even the singing,
of domestic draughts,
through your cat flap
speak the language you need,
to hear.
Your arbour brothers
and their brides have,
in these shortening days,
hastening wet footings.
And as yet their arms be semi-clothed.
As such and sucking they stand vulnerable,
to that one time,
in how so many years,
storm.
Their time early,
too early?
Smote storm stricken betwixt,
the north and east seas.
Cat curled there around my bedding
and my lax hand around a cooling tea.
Dance,
partners of thundering timbre,
into more of my unthinking time.
But for my brothers
and sisters reach,
oh reach
and bring onto them,
thy swirling beseeching.
Bash their brittle panes,
of protection.
And shriek,
time!
Time is nigh,
civil sleepers.
Come now to the earthen floor,
and rotate all your minds.
Shift swiftly,
into healing embraces before all,
you think you know,
is taken back,
rightfully,
to ancient unyielding slime.


“I guess you might describe me as a semi-nomad, at the moment . . . and in the moment, I might change. I am transitioning into a creative life, blogging, photography and, significantly, the publication of my first two photographically illustrated poetry anthologies, this year.”

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Author: Aurora Phoenix

I write as Aurora Phoenix. Nine months ago my world shattered. Unexpectedly and dramatically arrested, I have been incarcerated ever since, as I await the unbearably slow machinations of the system. Devoid of verbal communication that is unmonitored, pen and paper have served as my truest outlet for grief, fear and angst. Armed with toilet paper for intermittently copious tears, my motions experience and reflections are PaperMate poured. In this chapter of my life, I write.

22 thoughts on “The Bellowing Arbour – Jonathan O’Farrell”

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