Yellow Dawn

dap Yellow Dawn

Red sky at night; shepherds delight,
Red sky in the morning; shepherds warning.

 

Red skies are recognized
sung and painted and pointed at with pleasure.
They are an earthly known
they are…
expected.

But what does a yellow dawn announce?
Is it a warm lemon sky 
one which warms the hands and ripens winter cheeks?
Or a sulphurous expanse filled with portentous grey cloudriders?
 
It was so easily ignored
 this pale light splashed like urine across the empty sidewalks 
until it turned and bit the feeding apathetic hand
shifted without warning into
the harbinger of wild destruction
 funnelling across the earth like a screaming willful locomotive…
 
Another yellow dawn, an alien sunrise.
Here I stand in the midst of mist
gazing at the light 
and shadow
desperately trying to sort
 to place the citron air into an understandable
a sane
 classification 
but its unearthly tones swirl around me
teasingly
maliciously
and while I twist and turn
trying to avoid the chill sending its questing filaments down my neck and spine
my ears are slowly opening to the chthonian voices whispering in unnatural bliss
seeking to draw me
to absorb me
into the delicate travesty
of this yellow dawn.

©jayetomas2014

*photo by David Ash*   http://www.davidashphotography.org/

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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